


Like Flowers Ache for Spring

by TheDruidIsIn



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard (Marvel), Asgardian Culture (Marvel), Asgardian Magic (Marvel), Asgardian Royalty, Asgardian politics, Asgardian royal politics, Asgatdian court, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Magic, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fae Courts, Fae Magic, Fae biology, Fae politics, Friends to Lovers, Jotunn Biology (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Jotunn | Frost Giant, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki Gets a Hug (Marvel), Loki friendship, Loki gets sick, Loki has a friend, Loki think’s he might be one of his parents bastards but we all know he’s wrong about that, Matebonding, Mates, POV Loki (Marvel), Pre-Thor (2011), Protective Loki (Marvel), Royalty, Shapeshifter Loki (Marvel), Shapeshifters - Freeform, Shapeshifting, Sick Character, Sick Loki (Marvel), Sort Of, Soulmates, Thor (2011) - Freeform, asgard politics, fae characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:11:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26270146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDruidIsIn/pseuds/TheDruidIsIn
Summary: This headcanon post about Loki and Thor getting sick came across my dash and struck me with inspiration: https://lokijiro.tumblr.com/post/627081947574943744/lokijiro-theavengersheadcanons-i-know-someIn which Loki gets a fever as an adult, and it's not his mother who takes care of him this time. OR. In which Loki is reunited with an old friend and things take an unexpected turn. First takes place pre-Thor 1/pre-Thor 2011, extends at least into Thor (2011).
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 14





	1. The Fever

**Author's Note:**

> Frigga and Eir make exactly one appearance each in the first part of this, and everyone else is only mentioned in conversation, either vaguely or by name.
> 
> Addendum: Someone had a valid question about Loki's age, so I wanted to clear something up. He's not a child in this (and neither is Ash). In my mind he’s the human equivalent of like, 18-19? If not 20-21. So it’s pre-Thor (2011) before that coronation ceremony. He could easily be anywhere from 18-21 ish, and as for Thor, I don’t think it would be particularly weird for Thor to have his coronation when he’s their equivalent of a human who is 23-25.
> 
> Addendum 2: I changed his childhood nickname from 'Little Rabbit' to 'Little Crow'.

This time, it was truly bad. The young prince, Loki, the younger brother of the crown prince, was ill, as did happen from time to time to everyone on Asgard. This time, however, the illness came with a high fever, one that wouldn’t abate. A high fever for Loki meant being closer to a “normal” temperature for the others, since his normal body temperature ran slightly lower than average.

He had already languished in his chambers for half a fortnight, too weak to even sit up and often half-delirious. He’d nearly seized, once, when his temperature hit what would be considered a low-grade fever for his brother, and afterward the healers regularly gave him willow-bark tea to try to keep his temperature in check lest it reach such a dangerous level again. His mother tried staying by his side nearly constantly at first, but soon, with visiting dignitaries from Muspelheim, as Asgard’s Queen she was forced to attend court to play gracious host and could therefore not be missed.

Loki tried to take it in stride in his lucid moments, he really did, but the isolation soon got to him. Healers came to check on him regularly, perhaps more often than normal at his mother’s bidding, but still often found himself alone, what with the King’s directive stating that those who weren’t caring from him directly were ordered to steer clear of the prince’s presence to minimize the spread of the sickness. Loki grit his teeth as he glared pathetically at the ceiling. Every single one of his muscles and joints aches, his throat dry and scratchy and his eyes and nose constantly discharging. The servants had dimmed the lights, as they discovered first-hand that it hurt his eyes and made his head pound in his current condition. His ears seemed similarly sensitive, and loud noises grated on his hearing as much as the light did on his sight. The night before his fever had spiked, been so high that his senses crossed and he’d started seeing things again: the walls melting, along with visions and apparitions, not to mention the strange sensory experiences of tasting color, seeing sound and smelling heat. He felt as if he was three degrees away from begging for more willow bark tea or milk of the poppy to get through the worst of it that day when he finally found a bittersweet relief in exhaustion-induced sleep.

…

He woke up a few hours later to what he at first mistook for his mother’s presence. The scent of something flowery, a weight close by him in his bed as someone sat next to him, and soft hands laying a cool cloth onto his forehead. Gentle fingers stroked his hair away from his face as humming filled the air. His lips seemed almost to have been glued together as he prised them open to speak. His voice came out as less than a hoarse rasp. “Mother?”

An immediate sense of suspicion overtook him when no immediate answer came. The caring caresses paused, as did the humming. Finally, a voice spoke, sounding farther away than it really was. “No.”

This was not one of the healers or servants, either. Alarm spread through his weary mind, pulling him into a sort of out-of-it wakefulness. He licked cracked lips, swallowed to try to moisten a dry throat. “Who?”

“You shouldn’t speak much,” she, whoever she was, told him, not unkindly. “You need to save your strength.”

“The guards are but a shout away,” Loki tried again, “if you try anything—”

He hated being so sick, so _weak_. Implied in the threat was that _he_ wouldn’t be the one sorting her out because _he_ could barely move his fingers in this state, let alone cast a spell or draw a dagger to protect himself.

“I don’t want to _hurt_ you, silly,” the stranger replied, and what _gall._ Not many would dare to call the young prince silly or any word related to it, not if they had any sense. The bed moved as she shifted closer to him. “Try not to panic, Loki,” she requested calmly, and somehow his name sounded lovely on her lips, “I’m going to touch you in a moment, but only to help you sit up and drink, not to harm you.”

A moment later, arms wrapped around him as she leaned in close, gently easing him into an upright position until his weight rested on his headboard. Loki struggled to find the strength to open his eyes to at least _see_ this stranger. He finally managed it just as the rim of a goblet touched his lips, and stared at his caregiver in fascination. She seemed to be one of the fae, though not of the elf variety. Her long dark hair, lighter than his own, hung down in a multitude of thick braids that she’d tied out of the way of her heart-shaped face and plump, pouty lips. She had heavily lidded, glittering dark amber eyes and long, thick eyelashes for which many of the ladies at court would kill to have. She wore a shortish green tunic with brown leggings that stopped mid-calf. Her topaz skin gleamed with a golden undertone. She peered at him with nothing short of concern and interest as she held the goblet in place.

Loki narrowed his emerald green eyes at her, the doubt and misgivings clear. “How do I know it’s not poison?”

In response, she simply pulled it back, smiled sweetly at him, then drank from his goblet herself. After waiting patiently several minutes, she held it to his mouth again. Loki sighed and gave in, figuring that either this was a suicide mission and his father could celebrate the death of his least favorite son if the guards or healers didn’t react in time, or she really did mean him no harm. A slightly heated mixture of milk and honey passed his lips, and he sighed in contentment as it instantly soothed his throat, not that surprised when a tingle of healing magic followed it.

She set the goblet down on his nightstand. “There, how does that feel?”

“Better.”

He knew it would be rude to stare at her, but he couldn’t help it. One simply didn’t see her kind at court. The fae, of course, had their own courts, and occasionally people of Asgard had dealings with them, but she didn’t seem to be from any of them, not with her bare feet, necklace of shell and bone, and forest tunic. With a lack of a hoard she must not be a trooping type of fae, either. She must be solitary, or live in a smaller group. She might even be a part of a dyad or triad. He stared at the leaves, feathers, beads, and flower petals he now spotted woven into her braids, at her skin, so unlike his pale complexion, at her cheeks. She seemed…. familiar. Hauntingly familiar like a ghost, but his fever-addled brain struggled to dredge up the connection between them.

He startled when she reached out to lightly brush her fingers over his hair once more. “You don’t remember me, do you, Loki? We used to be friends, once upon a time.”

“I—” Loki licked his lips, this time much more successfully. The more he stared, the more that blankness started to fade, gaps started to fill, and a sense of recollection hit him. “Ashen.” He immediately shook his head, an action that pained him and made the room spin. “No, Ash,” he corrected himself.

Ash smiled warmly at him in a way that made his insides crawl with pleasure and familiarity. “They’re both correct, but I go by Ash.”

Her eyes softened as she returned his stare, her hand slipping into his and squeezing. She felt exquisitely cold to him at the moment given their temperature difference. Like him she ran colder than the usual citizen of Asgard, though not nearly as cold as his usual chilled body temperature. The fact that she felt so cool to his touch now should have alarmed him, but he could only feel pleased to see her at the moment. He feebly returned a squeeze to her own hand. “You came back,” he whispered.

“But of course. Did you really think I’d leave my best friend?”

Loki felt tears spring to his eyes unbidden, followed by a burning sense of embarrassment and shame that he couldn’t hide them as she wiped them away for him. He found the strength to turn his head to the side and stare bitterly at his reading chair. “Everyone does eventually.”

“Oh, Loki.”

Her hand left his and he thought his heart would break, until her weight on the bed shifted again and suddenly she was next to him under the covers, her cool body pressing into his as she gently pulled him into a hug and laid her head overtop his. She kissed the top of his head. “Don’t be foolish.”

He turned his head back and buried his face into her neck. “Why did you go?”

Ash sighed, picking back up where she left off stroking his hair. Loki closed his eyes again in contentment and sighed. “For one, I thought your brother and his friends saw me and I couldn’t come back until I was sure it was safe. For another—Loki?”

She broke off when she noticed his trembling. “I would never—” his voice quavered “— _never_ while there is breath in my body let him or those fools who follow him harm one hair on your head.”

She shushed him, caressing his face, and he calmed instantly. She continued her explanation once she knew for a fact that he’d settled down from his earlier agitation. “For another, at the time there was something after me, hunting me, and I couldn’t stand the thought of endangering you. So I led it away and dealt with it as quickly as possible, but when I tried to return, I couldn’t come back into Asgard the usual way. After the assassination attempt on your brother, they tightened their borders. I was almost caught, once.”

His fingers gripped at her tunic and he shuddered. She kissed his temple. “I’m alright, Little Crow, don’t worry.”

She was the only one who could get away with calling him something undignified like that, _Little Crow_. They were the same age, approximately. He was still young, having just come of age, but was not yet old enough to no longer be viewed as a child by some.

He tilted his head up to look at her face. She tipped hers downward to meet his hungry, adamant gaze. “Oh, I do, believe me.” He swallowed, trying not to get distracted by her scent and closeness. He was attracted to her and had been for some time, but had carefully hidden it. Still, they’d always been touchy and affectionate in ways he wasn’t with anyone else barring perhaps his mother, so he could get away with quite a lot without it steering into anything considered romantic or otherwise not-quite platonic. 

Ash hummed, somehow managing to give him an even softer look. “You’re sweet, Loki. I wish everyone could see the best of you like I do.”

He felt himself burning with something more than fever, but said nothing. Part of him distantly wondered if she were another elaborate illusion woven by the fever, but she felt too real, too present, as she sat next to him.

“I thought you died,” he finally blurted brokenly, unable to take his eyes off of her.

Her plump lips parted in surprise. She responded fondly in a lightly teasing tone. “As you can see, I survived.”

“But you might not have, and I, I want you to know—”

Very suddenly, Ash tensed and sat bolt upright, head cocked toward the door. Her attention snapped just as quickly back to him. “I have to go,” she whispered quickly, “someone’s coming.”

She made to leave, but Loki somehow gathered enough energy to grab her wrists. Cursing himself and the way his dignity fell to the wayside with her, he allowed himself to beg, his tone embarrassingly pleading to his own ears. “Please don’t leave me.”

Ash hesitated long enough to touch her forehead to his, then her nose to his nose. She sighed. “You know how hard it is to say no to you. Fine. I’ll stay, but I have to hide. I can’t be seen.”

Loki’s grip tightened momentarily. “Promise me?”

Ash kissed his cheek. “I promise.”

As soon as he let her go, she vanished, going nearly invisible as she blended into her surroundings like a chameleon. She hurriedly got out of his bed and hid. He couldn’t track her movements, but he heard her settle in just before his door opened to admit none other than his mother, dressed in all of her court finery.

Frigga shut his door softly, murmuring her greeting and thanks to the guards. She made her way over slowly, her long skirts sweeping with every step. When she got to the foot of his bed, she stood looking him over. “I see you’ve been seen-to while I was away at court.”

Loki cleared his throat, glad that for once he didn’t need to look as cool and collected as he usually did, and that his fever already made his usual milky white pallor flush bright red. “Yes, they’re quite thorough in their work.”

She smiled at him as she gathered her skirts and sat sideways next to him. “It’s good to hear your voice and see you awake. You seem more coherent than you’ve been of late.”

He already felt exhausted from his visit with Ash, but decided against mentioning his tiredness. His mother would only worry more, and it’s not like he could explain the reason behind it. Though, oddly enough, he _did_ feel more energized than usual, and, as she noted, more coherent. “Perhaps the fever is passing more quickly than we hoped.”

_Aided, no doubt, by Ash’s little magical nudge_ , he added silently.

Frigga reached out and pressed her hand to his forehead. “You seem cooler than you have been. It may just be breaking.”

Loki gave her a weak smile. “One can only hope, mother.”

She murmured her agreement and stood. “I’m afraid I can’t stay. I’m expected back to entertain the Lords and Ladies visiting our court. There’s to be a feast held tonight in their honor.” She smoothed his hair away from his temple, her fond expression wavering with confusion for a moment, gone so quickly that no one who didn’t know her well would notice. “Get well, my son.”

With a swish of her long skirts and a clinking of expensive jewelry, she was gone. Still, he dared not call out for Ash in case his mother sent someone in to check on him. He couldn’t say for certain how he knew, but he was almost sure that she’d sensed something, even if she didn’t detect Ash outright. She was very good at hiding, his Ash, but even he in his state realized their mutual mistake—the faint hint of her scent on him, on his sheets, would have been a dead giveaway to someone paying attention.

He lay still, waiting for her and suffering through the pair of healers that indeed were sent to fuss over him. Once they were gone, time seemed to drag on until _finally_ his friend appeared at his side again, curling into him like a content cat and this time laying her head on his shoulder as she played with a loc of his hair. He wished bitterly that he wasn’t sick so he could hold her properly. Instead he had to lie about like a limp rag and be coddled like a child.

He shuddered when she spoke, her breath ghosting over his ear and neck. “Are you getting tired? Should I help you lay back down again, Loki?”

Words left his mouth before his sluggish mind fully processed or made sense of them. “Will you still stay with me?”

Ash delicately ran her fingertips over his cheekbone. “I can try to, but I can’t fall asleep here, Loki. It would be different if you weren’t ill. Then we wouldn’t have to worry about anyone walking in and finding me.”

He tried not to wince at how desperate he must sound. “Can you not set up a proximity ward?”

She sighed, and the exhale glided through his hair. “You and I both know that your mother would sense something like that even if no one else did.”

“So you won’t stay.”

Ash nuzzled his shoulder. “Of course I am, but I can’t let myself fall asleep next to you. I’ll still be nearby.”

Loki couldn’t stop himself from sulking a bit, but didn’t push it. He wouldn’t risk her safety just for his own comfort.

Ash stayed by his side as the shadows grew, flitting away and back as servants entered to light the candles, then as his healers came again. She talked to him softly, barely above a whisper, about things she’d seen and done while away, stories she’d heard. They talked late into the evening with her fingers twined between his, until finally his tired body could hold out no longer and he felt his eyelids droop. He wanted to protest when she told him to get some sleep, but he didn’t have the strength any longer to argue, and soon fell asleep again, though this time in her arms after she’d lowered him back onto his pillows.

Loki woke again hours later, trembling, aching in every part of his body, nearly delirious with pain and wanting to crawl out of his skin from the heat. One groan of discomfort had Ash at his side again in an instant, her hand on his forehead. Her palm felt like a block of ice. He moaned gratefully and pressed into the touch, the only relief he had from the fever. Her lips twisted into a concerned frown and she ripped the covers away from his body, staring at him in horror afterward. He tried to peer down to see what she saw and blanched when he noticed his clothes completely drenched in sweat.

Her eyes, gleaming even in the low light, shone with worry. “My stars, you’re burning up, Little Crow.”

Loki watched as a steely resolve settled over her. She reached for him, easing him into an upright position and throwing his arm over her shoulder. “Come on, Loki, we have to get you cooled down _now_.”

He shook his head furiously, gritting his teeth through the lances of pain that shot through him when he did so. “No, Ash, someone could see you.”

Ash exhaled with a combination of determination and resignation. “I don’t care. It won’t matter if you’re dead, and _I won’t let you die_. Now stand, prince. If you’re that worried, your own personal chambers should suffice.”

She heaved him onto his feet, and he realized then how strong she really was, much stronger than her body suggested. A quiet gasp escaped as she staggered under the sudden heft of his weight but persevered. A quiet murmur of something, words rushed and running together, paired with a brief flare of palest blue, and he suddenly felt much lighter. She eased him back down and peered intently into his face. 

“You have to get on my back, Loki. Do you understand? I don’t know how lucid you are right now, but please trust me.”

He clenched his jaw and glared. “I’ll hurt you.”

Ash rolled her eyes. “You won’t. I used a feather-light charm to make it manageable. Now please, get on already.”

She turned around and bent her knees. Loki would have pinched the bridge of his nose or massaged his temples if he could have. Instead he allowed himself to list forward and wrap his arms around her shoulders and his legs around her waist. He could tell as she straightened as much as she could that even with the charm, it was proving difficult for her to take all of his dead weight like that, but it was all he could do to hold onto her and, presumably, use his remaining strength to aid her with magic wherever possible. Ash reached back to brace her hands underneath his legs and started forward, one step at a time, toward his personal bathing chamber. He watched as a swirl of pale blue energy flowed out in a wave in front of them. When it made contact with the door, the door swung open without being physically touched.

Once inside the room, Ash chanced taking one hand away from supporting him to wave it first towards the door to secure it behind them, then toward the taps of the massive in-ground tub. Cool water poured forth from the designated spout, the pond-sized tub filling quickly with a little encouragement from her magic. Loki thought Ash would simply set him on the steps leading into its depths, or help him ease in once the water rose. Instead, she walked straight into the bath without hesitation, staying even as the water level reached her knees, then her thighs, then as her clothes plastered to her skin as the water soaked through them. She shut the water off when it got to chest-height.

Loki unwound from her and stood with his hands braced on her shoulders to steady himself, finding it easier to stay upright in the water than on land. She turned in his arms and looked up at him. “You need some support.” She tugged on his hand and he let her lead him to the low ledge running around the edge of the bath. He sat down abruptly as his legs gave out and his energy dissipated, sagging there in relief. She perched beside him as he leaned his back against the wall. Turning to look at him again, she bit her lip, still obviously concerned with him.

He didn’t know what possessed him to string together the damning confession that spilled from his usually far cleverer lips, but before he knew it he was blurting out the first thing that came to mind. “Do you know that you look quite fetching when you do that?”

He winced internally as soon as the words left his mouth. _The fever must have addled his brains more than he first thought_.

Instead of responding, she slid off of the ledge onto her feet. Seized by a sudden and unreasonable panic, Loki’s hand darted out to grasp her thin wrist. “Wait, please. I don’t know what came over me, but…”

“I’m not leaving, Loki.” Ash gently disengaged his grip. She stepped closer to him. “I think you need to be fully immersed. Do you trust me?”

Loki swallowed thickly, staring again into the mellow honey and amber of her eyes. “With my life.”

Her lips twitched in amusement, but she grew serious again. “I need you to listen to me. I’ll be with you the entire time.”

Ash helped Loki ease carefully into his feet, then resumed her position on the ledge. “Turn around and then lean back into me.”

Loki did as she asked, slowly leaning backward. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer. She spoke by his ear. “I’ve got you, Loki. Now go as limp as possible and don’t touch the bottom.”

With anyone else he might suspect them of wanting to drown him. With her, he trusted her implicitly. She used her legs and arms to keep him out of the water from the neck down, while the rest of his body floated bonelessly. She murmured encouragements and soothing reassurances as she carefully balanced him in her lap, dipping her hands in to splash water on his front or drip it carefully onto his face. The ice cold water did wonders for him, and he could actually tell when his temperature started dropping drastically. Ash stayed with him in the chilly water for hours, pulling the warmth from the water and the ambient temperature in the room to make it cool down even more. Loki dozed on and off in the peaceful atmosphere, feeling totally at ease in her arms. Eventually he fell into a true sleep, his first one in a while not brought on by exhaustion or fever.

.

With no sense of how much time had passed, he woke up to realize his fever had broken sometime during the night. Ash had moved his body onto the ledge, his head still in her lap. She looked tired, purple smudges sitting underneath her eyes. The smile she graced him with, however, was genuine, filled with relief and affection. “Good morning, my prince,” she whispered.

Loki reached up to touch her cheek. “You stayed up all night, didn’t you?”

She didn’t try denying it. “For you.”

He caressed her jawline, making her close her eyes and hum appreciatively. “Why?”

Her eyes opened and she chuckled. “You mean besides making sure you didn’t drown yourself?” Heat, without any connection to a fever, rushed to his cheeks. She outlined his lips with her pinky finger. “Because I had to take care of you, Little Crow.”

Loki shifted and slowly righted himself until he sat beside her on the ledge rather than continuing to lay in her lap. He needed his wits about him now that he didn’t have a fever as an excuse for his foolish behavior and runaway tongue. He waited a moment as he fought off the wave of vertigo that overcame him when he moved. Once the room stopped tilting and spinning and he felt he wouldn’t throw up in the water, he turned to regard her. With the ends of her hair curling even more from getting wet and her clothes clinging to her body, he had to smother his reaction to the sight of her, instead making a point to focus on her eyes instead. They were a trap in their own right, though, so intent on him, so focused. He had her full attention, her respect, her _love,_ he gathered as he observed her and the way she looked at him. If that love ever mutated slightly to be the same kind as he felt for her, the world would certainly be in twice as much trouble. Perhaps it already had, although he didn’t want to drive her away if it hadn’t, or wouldn’t.

“Why do you care for me? I’m not the crown prince, or the favored son. By all accounts I may very well be one of my parent’s bastards with the way the court treats me. Neither my brother nor the warriors take me seriously, let alone father—”

Ash held a finger to his lips. “Stop.” There was a command in her voice. Usually he balked and chafed at being told what to do, but he immediately fell silent when she asked him to. “Stop acting like an idiot,” she continued, sounding incredibly serious. “You’re too clever by half to pretend to be less than. They’re all fools, blinded by prejudice, you know that.” She pressed her forehead to his the way she had the day before. “They just can’t see you the way I do.”

Loki leaned into her, his lips hovering just in front hers. If either of them moved toward the other, their lips would meet. “And how do you see me? We’ve known each other for years and I still don’t know what you think of me.”

Ash inhaled sharply. Loki wondered if he’d perhaps pressed too far when she surprised him with her lips fluttering hesitantly against his. It was over as quickly as it happened, with their foreheads still resting against each other. “I…have feelings for you,” she confessed. “I didn’t want you to think I was some silly little girl with an idiotic crush, and I didn’t want it to come between us. I thought, sometimes…”

Loki waited for Ash to continue.

“...I thought sometimes you might feel the same way, but I was never sure and was afraid of misinterpreting something.”

He dropped a kiss of his own onto her worried, frowning lips. “ _That_ could never come between us, Ash. I feel for you.” He swallowed thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing and feeling far less confident than usual. “I _need_ you, I _want_ you, and I _choose_ you.”

She gasped softly, sounding somehow pleased, and he moved to kiss her again, cautiously reaching for her to bring her into his arms, giving her enough time to pull away if she wanted to. Instead she drew him closer of her own volition and they melted into each other, pulling each other close as their lips met again for the third time. His hand slowly trailed down her spine. One of hers traveled in the opposite direction, trailing upward to grip the back of his neck. As her fingers tangled into his hair and his knotted into her damp tunic, a rather insistent knock sounded at the door and he groaned in annoyance. Ash bit his lip gently as they separated, her eyes playful. Her volume dropped to below a whisper. “Want me all to yourself do you?”

Loki smirked. “You have no idea what I have in mind.”

After a quick glance downward, Ash gave him an answering smirk, entirely too smug. “I think I do.”

Loki felt a blush forming as Ash kissed his cheek, winked, and faded from sight with a whispered, “Go on then, answer the door.”

Loki huffed in irritation at the intruder and slowly made his way toward the steps out of the bath with a shout to let his visitors know he was coming, if far slower than normal. When he finally made it out, water dripping and sluicing from him in rivulets, he snatched a clean towel from the shelves and made his way to the door. He dispelled Ash’s subtle spell jamming the lock to keep anyone from opening it from the outside and wrenched the door open. The simple acts of walking from the bath and trudging to the door left him with an underlying dragging tiredness that had nothing to do with a lack of sleep.

One of the healers and a servant stood on the other side. The servant hurriedly curtsied deeply. “Your grace.” The healer, of noble birth herself, gave him a courtesy appropriate for her station. “Your grace.”

Loki inclined his head. “Lady Astrid, Falla.”

Lady Astrid peered at him with a sense of genuine concern. If he remembered correctly, she was one of the relatives of the head healer, Eir—her first cousin’s daughter, or her granddaughter or niece, or something of the sort—and would therefore be a favorite, then, of his mother’s, loyal to her personally. “Are you feeling better, your grace?”

Loki shrugged. “I have yet to recover my usual level of strength, stamina, or energy, but that cursed fever finally broke last night.”

At his words, she reached out to touch his forehead herself, nodding when she ascertained that he was, in fact, far cooler than he had been all week, though perhaps not _quite_ back to his usual self. He went on to explain his evening, minus Ash’s presence, to the healer as she and the servant ushered him back into his sleeping chamber and to his bed. As the servant rushed to get him dry clothes, Lady Astrid conducted a proper examination. Once she finished, she nodded in satisfaction. “You’re well on your way to recovery, Prince Loki. Your fever did break, and you were right to use the cold water to try to bring it down if it got as high as you say it did. In fact, that may have saved your life.”

She eyed him speculatively. “You should still be on bedrest for another day or so, maybe three depending on how quickly you recover. I’ll have them send something from the kitchen right away now that you can eat properly, but something that should be easy on your stomach. Now, though, you need to get changed out of those cold wet clothes and back into your bed.”

He scowled but complied, taking the bundle of fresh clothing from Falla behind the privacy screen with him and making quick work of exchanging them for his own sodden sleepwear. He emerged and passed off the soaked garments to Falla, who disappeared with them. Lady Astrid stood near the door watching him carefully as a few more servants were in and out, changing his bedding, draining the bath, opening his drapes to let the sun in and leaving a fresh jug of water. A different servant stayed to feed him after his meal, a bone and vegetable broth followed by bland oatmeal and mashed apples, arrived, while Falla meticulously combed his hair free of tangles. After she saw that he had an appetite and could keep the food down, Lady Astrid left with the last two servants, leaving him alone—sort of alone, anyway, with strict instructions not to have anyone disturb him for the day.

A few minutes of silence passed, then Ash appeared in the doorway of his bathing chamber, dripping and shivering slightly. He could see her gooseflesh from where he sat up against his headboard reading. He put his book down and sighed in fond annoyance. “You need to change clothes too, Ash.”

Ash crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned against the door frame. “Is this just an excuse to see me naked, good sir? What would your mother say?”

Loki gave her a glare with no weight behind it. “She’d have my head for leaving a lady in wet clothing to catch her death of a cold.”

Ash snorted and rolled her eyes but ducked back into the bathing room. She emerged two minutes later wrapped in another towel from the shelf with her wet tunic and leggings in hand. He forced himself not to stare at her bare shoulders and thighs, instead looking slightly to the right of her. “If you leave them in my bathing room on the drying rack for the towels, no one should find them immediately.”

Ash nodded, disappeared into the room again, then padded back out uncertainly. At her questioning look, he merely gestured at his wardrobe. She approached it with obvious trepidation, pulling the doors open and reaching inside. She brought out one of his nightshirts and looked at him questioningly. “Is this alright?”

Loki shrugged. “Wear whatever you wish of mine.”

A pointed look crossed her face, but Ash refrained from commenting as she closed the wardrobe and slipped behind the privacy screen. The towel levitated from behind it toward the bathing room, then through the door to somewhere he couldn’t see, likely banished to the drying rack. Ash emerged wearing the nightshirt, her hair twisted into a bun on top of her head. Loki went back to reading to avoid staring at her as she crossed the room. The bed dipped, and then she was snuggled up to him like she had the day before, only this time he had no fever to hide the flush that crept up his neck and across his cheeks from her proximity.

Her hand immediately went back into his hair, playing with it as she was wont to do. Now, though, knowing how they both felt and having it out in the open, every touch between them carried something different for him. He couldn’t concentrate on the words printed neatly on the page below him. Every time he tried, his senses would focus instead on her fingers in his hair, and then the letters would start dancing across the page into nonsense. He knew he couldn’t last long like that—either she had to stop, or he had to stop trying to read altogether and write it off as a lost cause for the day.

It was hardly a choice at all in the end.

Loki calmly marked his place and set the book aside, then cautiously watched Ash for her reaction as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair. She wiggled around and slid her feet against his as if trying to get warm, which only led to him making an amused sound deep in his throat. “Comfortable enough, Ash?”

Ash buried her face into his neck and shoulder, pressing her cheek against his collarbone as she gently nipped him. “Nearly,” came the muffled reply.

He couldn’t contain an amused snort. “Well, don’t let me stop you then,” he teased, affection evident in his voice. He lowered his face to her hair, taking in her familiar scent and then exhaling contentedly. He trailed the tip of his nose down to her ear, where he tentatively dropped two more light kisses. In his arms, Ash gasped, then shuddered. Loki blinked in surprise until he remembered that ears were a common erogenous zone for fae, then he flushed in embarrassment upon realizing what he’d done.

As he stilled awkwardly, Ash dipped her head down to bite gently at his shoulder. As her teeth scraped his flesh without breaking skin, a light moan escaped Loki before he froze. Next to him, Ash pressed into his side. He held himself back from trembling when her breath ghosted against the shell of his ear. “Loki,” she breathed. “If you don’t want this to go anywhere you’re not comfortable, you should stop now.”

He turned onto his side with her in his arms so that they lay facing each other. He stared into the depths of her eyes, that curious, warm, honey-amber. “I want you.”

She stared at him for a moment, long enough that he lay there with his stomach in worry-knots, then leaned forward to rub her nose with his and touch cheeks and foreheads. “I want you, too.”

He could feel his heart thud in his chest, picking up speed from a trot to a canter to a gallop as his heart-rate increased. He’d been honest with her, and she wanted him in return. Did that perhaps mean...? He couldn’t allow himself to think the rest in case it was too good to be true. Meanwhile, Ash bit her lip as she stared at him some more, her long lashes batting over those striking eyes of hers. He thought his heart would stop when she leaned forward and tenderly took his lip between hers, biting down without drawing blood then drawing him into a slow, steady kiss surely meant to drive him mad. He wanted to pull her even closer by her hip or touch the hardening nipples he could both see and feel through the nightshirt— _his_ nightshirt, he reminded himself—that she wore, but he didn’t want to rush her.

Ash ended their kiss abruptly and sat up, looking down at him with wild eyes that flashed red. Loki squashed his disappointment and slowly sat up with her. His voice dropped to a whisper. “What is it? Do you sense someone?”

Ash sighed tiredly, reaching out to cup his cheek with her palm. “No, not in the way you mean. No one is coming. I just…. Do you know what a mate-bond is and how it’s formed?”

Loki’s forehead wrinkled with thought. “It's a bond that’s formed between one of the fae and someone with whom they’re in love, usually someone with whom they’ve also been intimate. It’s not uncommon for fae to form them and become life-long mates with their bonded.” A calculating glint appeared in his eyes as he glanced at her, accompanied by a tilt of his head and a shrewd assessment. “Why, do you think…...?”

He left the rest unspoken, but she understood, nodding. “I—Loki, the terrifying ways that I already love you…. If we do this, it’s almost certain I’ll form that bond to you, and they’re unbreakable.”

Loki turned into her touch and kissed her wrist, then leaned forward to bring their foreheads back together. “I want you.” His voice broke. “In every sense of the word.”

“Loki…”

“If that means being your mate,” he continued, swallowing, “I’m yours.”

A beat of silence, then with a last harsh breath, Ash withdrew her touch. A protest immediately leapt to the tip of his tongue, then died as she rose onto her knees (belatedly, he realized) to free up the fabric of the nightshirt. He could only watch, mesmerized, as she slowly raised it over her head, revealing herself to him inch by inch, from her suddenly bare thighs to the plains of her stomach to the swell of her breasts. First one tawny nipple appeared, then the other, each looking almost painfully hard. Taking in her full naked glory and the soft golden glow of her bare flesh for the first time, he ached to touch her.

She deposited the nightshirt behind her, then returned to meeting his gaze unflinchingly, not at all intimidated by him like some of the nobles at court. As that thought had crossed his mind, fierceness had come over her, and part of him marveled at it as he copied her, tossing his clothing carelessly somewhere behind him.

Loki couldn’t stop staring: at the freckles splashed across her nose and the flush to her cheeks, at the patch of dark hair at the apex of her thighs and where that led, at her long hair as it hung over her shoulders and down her back, having been let down when she undressed. A dizzying sense of magnetism seemed to draw them together. Loki paused on the precipice, suddenly unsure. Ash reached for his left hand and brought it to her lips for a soft kiss to each of his knuckles, then very deliberately guided it to her right breast.

He no longer had to wonder what her skin felt like. It was as soft as it looked, perhaps softer. He circled her waist with his opposite arm, holding her loosely in place as he brought his trembling lips to hers. Her free hand came to rest on his shoulder as she leaned into him, while the other left her breast for his hair, tangling in the loose strands at the base of his neck. He broke away to look at her again, feeling more aroused by the moment. He gave her a reverent once-over, eyes sweeping over her form then returning to her face, breath trembling and something searching in his gaze. It held for only a moment before that same magnetism pulled them back together.

For a long time, there were no words, only their lips finding purchase on each other, their breath mingling, and their hands cautiously exploring. Ash guided them back down to where they lay before, her lips leaving his to rain down kisses on his face and neck. At first she followed his jawline, but soon she dropped kisses on his cheekbones, between his eyes, and on his eyelids. Loki lay mostly still, except to trace lazy shapes on her spine and work on leaving a love bite where her shoulder and neck met.

Ash wrapped her leg around his waist, tugging his body flush to hers. Loki felt her then, flushed, slick, and swollen from arousal. An indistinct sound, something akin to a soft growl mixed with a strangled moan, clawed its way out of his throat. He whined her name, voice choked and barely above a whisper, without any shred of embarrassment, desperately needing to be inside of her more than he needed to maintain his composure. “Ash...” His forehead pressed into her collarbone, his words even softer when spoken between them, though still clear. “I need you. I need—”

Ash rolled onto her back, taking him with her. The weight of her eyes when she looked up at him, just as needy, nearly undid him. His name on her lips then sounded like a prayer. “Shhh, Loki, I know.” She undulated upward, pressing against his own obvious arousal, destroying him when she spoke. “I need the same.” She injected a bit of a whine into her own voice. “Please?”

As Loki blinked down at her, he realized something: one word, one syllable, held such power. She had no crown, no title, no place at court, no noble bloodline to lay claim to that he knew of, and yet in that moment she held him in the palm of her hand. Not through cruelty, manipulation, or force; not through trickery, deception, or pressure. Only through love alone, through the fierce yet tender look she gave him, the adoration with which she said his name, the burning desire between them, the loving caress of her fingertips on his cheek. There was no question of how far he might go for her, to protect her, to show his love. He would destroy his enemies, hers, anyone who tried to harm her or come between them.

A breathy inhale left Ash as Loki slowly eased into place. It swiftly turned into a hiss of pleasure. “Yes.” Her eyes flashed red again when he could go no further, his pubic bone flush with hers. Pulsing, followed by her immediately clenching down on him. Loki took a moment to take in each sight and sensation, savoring the tight, hot, wet feel of her around him, of her breasts against his chest, of the matching hungry look in her eyes. She buried her hand into his hair again. “Come closer.”

He lowered his head onto her shoulder. “Yes, love?”

Her eyes lit up and she blushed an endearing shade of pink in pleasure before she turned into his neck, lightly nuzzling against him. “Do you trust me, Loki?”

Loki answered without a single trickle of hesitation. “Yes.”

Ash pressed a long kiss to his neck. “Will you be upset if I bite you?”

A new pulse of desire rushed through him at the thought of her teeth on his skin again. “No.”

Ash nipped him experimentally, then carefully began biting down in the same spot that Loki had kissed earlier on her own body. As the pressure slowly increased, the tide of Loki’s desire rose and his hips involuntarily jerked forward. Reeling, slightly dazed, high from the pleasure flooding his body, he found himself rutting helplessly against Ash as her teeth clamped tighter and tighter, eventually breaking through his skin. He turned his head slightly, pressing his face into her neck and thrusting in as deeply as possible as he bit her back. Her blood rushed into his mouth, liquid flame that burned but yet didn’t, as she arched into him, emitting something between a hum and a purr and tugging lightly at his hair.

Somewhere between the dizzying rush and blinding ecstasy, he regained a more conscious control of his movements, but only just. With Ash’s ankles resting on his shoulders, her left hip resting in the crook of his right elbow, and one hand splayed over the small of her back, he held her close. His Ash was, as it turned out, incredibly vocal and responsive— _feral_ , even, not that he didn’t enjoy it. In fact, it only spurred him on to hear her cries. Every time he hit a particularly deep or sensitive spot, she would vocalize, whether it be a growl, a hiss, or that odd half-purring-half-humming sound again.

The best part, perhaps, was when she came undone on him for the first time, her insides pulsing and fluttering a hundredfold more than when he first entered her, clenching, squeezing him until he thought he might pass out from the delicious pressure of it. Her hold on him broke, her teeth withdrawing from his shoulder and her back arching. As soon as he felt her release him, he released her now bloody shoulder. He rested his forehead against hers as she clutched at his back, then hissed from the sudden sharp sting of her nails digging into his skin, somehow elongated and sharper than earlier. The low scream of pleasure she let loose made a bit of blood in her mouth run over her lips and chin, creating a scarlet trail that dripped onto her heaving breasts. A fresh wave of desire, like the tide coming into shore, crashed through his system.

Loki wasn’t entirely sure if sex should feel quite so pleasurable. He thought idly that he’d gladly give up his position at court to spend the rest of his days nestled between her soft thighs, buried as deeply as possible inside of her to coax out the delicious sounds she made every time he moved. He could live off of the breathy moans muffled by his own flesh, her sweet blood singing across his tongue, her ever-tightening warmth embracing him. Her scent hung heavily in the air, thick, heady, intoxicating, rising in intensity as the seconds ticked by. Surely Ash must taste even sweeter? His mouth watered just thinking of it, of holding her hips to the mattress so she couldn’t squirm away from his lips and tongue and teeth—but they could make time for that later.

They _would_ make time for it. He had to taste her, but not now.

Loki kept going through her orgasm, rewarded with a second, then a third, a few moments later, each gaining in intensity. He extended a shaking hand to cradle her jaw. Ash tipped her face into the touch, eyeing him through hooded, half-red eyes. “My love, my mate.” Her eyes flashed an even deeper crimson. “ _Mine_.”

Hearing that, Loki _burned_.

Without conscious thought, his lips descended on hers again. Ash pushed her tongue into his mouth, and the blood still on her lips, his blood, mingled with the traces of hers. Loki shifted his weight to slide one hand toward her thighs. His fingers found their mark, rubbing carefully but steadily at a small, stiff, sensitive area. Loki barely had time to entertain the fleeting thought that he couldn’t last much longer.

With the new stimulation, a massive orgasm ripped through Ash, one accompanied by a flood of new arousal and a vice-grip that held him in place. That, coupled with Ash keening in pleasure then all but convulsing while thrashing around on him and gasping his name, destroyed any resistance he had. As she lay beneath him trembling and twitching, still whispering his name, he came with a shudder, lying flat overtop of her. He had planned to pull out so that his seed would land on her stomach, but in the end spilled inside of her before he had the chance to attempt it. After the initial wave, hips jerked a few more times involuntarily, though eventually they stilled.

Loki had no idea when he’d started panting, but when his ears stopped ringing and he came back to himself, he noticed it. He leant up on his elbows, biting his lip guiltily as he found Ash already staring at him. Her hand came up to caress his cheek. “Are you all right, Loki?”

“I didn’t mean to—to stay inside,” he muttered, embarrassed to admit to the words that followed. “I lost control, Ash, I couldn’t stop, I—”

Ash shushed him, placing one finger across his lips. She met his earnest fervor with a calm demeanor. “Loki, are you a great mage or not, my love?”

Loki’s eyes, wide with worry, developed a slow sense of realization. “I suppose so.”

Ash continued to press him calmly. “And tell me, my love, what is the opposite of a spell to increase fertility?”

Loki blinked, relaxing as her voice of reason soothed his anxieties. “A contraceptive spell, of course.”

Ash smiled warmly at him in a way that made his insides swim pleasantly with a quiet, glowing sort of delight. “What a clever mate I have,” she purred.

While it might have sounded condescending or mocking coming from someone else, from her it only pleased him. He smirked, though his genuine happiness overrode any cockiness. “Yes, I have to say I agree.”

He touched noses with her, earning a giggle and a pleased hum. He bowed his head to touch foreheads, murmuring the incantation. Green light gathered around the hand he pressed to her lower abdomen, sinking into her skin. He tilted his head to kiss her temple, then sighed into her hair with no small sense of relief. “I’ll have to acquire something else for us as well, a potion or a tea…” He trailed off, dropping his head onto her unbloodied shoulder and kissing her neck. “I truly am sorry, Ash. It was careless of me to do in the first place, and thoughtless not to ask your permission.”

Ash carded her fingers into the hair at his nape, smoothing out the strands. “It was an accident, Loki. You were overwhelmed.” She trailed her nose along his jaw to hover her lips over his ear. “Besides, I wanted you to keep going…to stay inside.” Loki shuddered at her words before she could continue. “Next time we’ll be better prepared.”

Loki nipped at her unmarked shoulder. “Oh, yes, _next time_ , I like the sound of that.”

Ash delivered a nip of her own to his ear, amusement evident in her tone. “You would.”

Loki smirked, this time much more smugly. His fingers slipped between them to search out the swollen bud that brought her to her most intense orgasm. “Of course. Don’t you?”

A startled laugh mixed with a moan burst from Ash, who slapped at his shoulder playfully. “You have no shame,” she panted, undulating beneath him.

“None,” Loki agreed.


	2. The Old Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ash and Loki discuss the precarious position of their relationship. OR. In which Loki's playful side shows and Ash is mischievous. Here there be flower crowns, more banter, and an important decision.
> 
> I'm doing all the proofing and editing on my own, but anything that I miss in the first revision or so will likely get caught in later revisions. Apologies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note, I did change "Little Rabbit" to "Little Crow" for reasons.

Loki woke up gradually, concluding that he’d slept several hours judging by the angle and intensity of the sunlight coming through his windows. He could feel Ash’s soft naked body still entwined with his. Their legs tangled together, her cheek rested against his shoulder, and her head tucked underneath his chin. One of his arms draped lazily over her waist, while she seemed to have slept with one thrown over his shoulder and one curled up between them. He slowly opened his emerald green eyes, melting inside as he, with his first waking glance, took in the sight of her sleeping peacefully next to him. A small smear of blood on her right cheek had joined the original droplets on her lips, chin, and throat. He likely suffered under a similar fate, between the initial feeding during their lovemaking—the first _or_ the second time—and the lazy session afterwards before they both succumbed to the contented sleepiness that overcame them. With the wards in place and less need for a constant stream of healers, they both felt secure in the belief that no one would barge in and discover their secret.

As if sensing his gaze on her, Ash twitched and woke with a start, her honey-amber eyes staring into his own first with disorientation, then recollection and fondness.

“ _Mine,”_ Ash whispered happily, practically purring as she freed the hand trapped between them to reach out and tenderly stroke his face. “My mate.”

Loki felt an overwhelming sense of pleasure at her words. “Yes. I am yours, and you are mine.” He dipped his head to kiss her bloodstained lips. In response, a soft growl rumbled deep in her throat. Loki felt the arm over his shoulder shift until her fingers slipped into his hair. He lifted his mouth from hers to see her eyes tilt toward that bloody hue again. “Are you hungry, my sweet? I can have the servants bring us a meal.”

Soft lips and a hint of fang, then she was biting and kissing at his throat. With a moan, his head fell back, his eyes fluttering closed briefly. Between the sex and the exchange of blood, he’d experienced his strength returning rather than fading. Any fool could hazard a guess as to why: clearly sex and blood magic worked wonders when applied correctly—or, at least, that was his theory, though perhaps mated individuals reaped added benefits.

“I am,” Ash finally murmured as she pulled away from him, though not before first licking the open wounds to seal them. _That_ little ability rather came in handy given their newly developed habit of feeding on each other, though it did nothing for the copious amounts of bloodstains on the sheets (and on their bodies). The former they’d vanished so as not to let it settle and therefore become more difficult to remove later. 

Loki sat up with her, dropping another kiss between her bewitching eyes. “I’ll call for them.”

Ash bent to kiss his collarbone. “I’ll hide then.”

Before he could protest, she started fading from sight, until she had camouflaged again. Her scent and the nearly physical yet still intangible link between them—their bond, he supposed—were all that reassured him that Ash was still with him. Loki ached keenly at the loss of contact and sight, but rather than prolonging it he raised a convincing glamor, weaving it into place so that no one would notice his mussed sheets or less than poised appearance (or all the newest bite-marks, for that matter). It would also dampen the senses of anyone approaching it from the outside. He didn’t want to make the same mistake as the previous day by not covering Ash’s scent or presence. It would also cover up the very obvious scents of dried blood and sex in the air. They could always vanish the blood in an instant, but the scent lingered.

Loki carefully rose from his bed, grabbing his nightshirt as he stood. He carried it with him to the door, taking his time to test out his balance and activate his muscles after laying so long in bed. When he reached his destination, he dressed on only slightly shaking legs, then opened his door a crack, calling out to the nearest guard stationed around his chambers. The guard immediately gave him his full attention. He placed a fist over his heart and bowed low. “Yes, your grace? What do you require of me?”

“Brandr, please inform one of the servants that I require sustenance. Have them send enough for two meals so that I might preserve one for later in the day without having to get out of bed again. I still tire far too easily for my liking.” Much of what he told the man rang true, and yet also still contained a falsehood. Brandr the guard, however—one of those picked out personally by his mother and entrusted with the task of watching her son because of his loyalty to her—needn’t know that. The man bowed to him again and set off at once, his position immediately filled by another hand-picked and trusted guard, Arnar.

Loki closed his door and turned to face his bed. He raised his hand, gathering his—astonishingly quickly—almost completely recovered magic. With one snap of his fingers, he freshened the sheets and vanished any remaining evidence of their activities, be it blood, sweat, or spilled seed, then with another snap he charmed the bed to remake itself. Without having to cast about his magical senses for her, he could feel Ash nearby and nowhere near the bed, so he had no reason to fear disturbing her. Next he vanished the blood from his person. As Ash appeared before him, he could see that she’d already done the same to herself, and used a spell to re-braid her hair. She flicked her wrist and the window opened, followed by a small wind whipping through the room, stirring any stale air and dissipating the tell-tale lingering scents in the room. Well, he had wondered how they might take care of that and now had his answer.

“Well, now that we’ve cleaned up after ourselves, we might as well bathe and dress.”

Ash cocked an eyebrow, smirking slightly. Her hip jutted as she shifted her weight to one side and crossed her arms over her breasts. “What, do you not trust hygiene charms, love?”

Normally one to bristle at even the smallest hint of a teasing tone directed at him, Loki merely smirked back at her, his fondness evident in his emerald eyes. “Oh, I know firsthand what wonders magic can accomplish.” He crossed the room to her, tugging her into his arms. He held her to his chest, kissing the crown of her head. “Whatever magic we performed together, inadvertently or not, has me nearly at full strength. However—” He coaxed her chin up to look lovingly into her eyes, careful not to hurt her. “—there’s something about a warm bath that magic simply cannot replicate. So, given that, will you join me?”

Ash responded first by smiling at him with such affection that it made him feel weak for a moment, then by nodding and tipping her head to kiss his wrist. “Lead the way, _my lord_ ,” she said, that lighthearted teasing tone returning.

“It’s _your grace_ ,” he teased back at her. “Though I suppose you’re the only person I could allow to get away with a different form of address.”

“I think you can forgive me a little impropriety.” Her smirk grew. “Though the court might disapprove of something so scandalous—or disapprove of me entirely. I’m sure my kind isn’t welcome at court at all, regardless of whose favor allows it or to whom we bond.”

Loki snickered as he imagined the faces of all the noblemen’s daughters sent to woo him, who by doing so successfully would secure more power for their kin. “The Frost Giants can take the court. Those vile vultures disapproving of you?” He pressed his forehead to hers. “Damn their approval _and_ their delicate sensibilities.” He gave her a steady look of unbridled hunger.

Ash grinned at him rather mischievously. “Why, my dear sweet prince, some might say you enjoy causing trouble for others, or causing trouble for trouble’s sake.” Her amusement and affection bled through her words, and he saw a distinct twinkle in her eyes. “Although I’m sure that whoever finds trouble at your hands deserves it in some way—or they make it far too easy for you.”

Loki touched noses with her. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

Her pealing laughter filled the air. She grabbed his hand and towed him toward the bathing chamber. “Oh, is that the only reason you like me?”

Loki’s lips twitched. “One of many.”

A few minutes later, they sunk into the warm—not hot—water with twin sighs of contentment and relief. Loki watched unabashed as Ash swam around the large bath. With each sure stroke, she cut through the water like a fish. He lounged on the ledge that only the night before his friend—his _mate—_ used to help bring down his dangerously high fever. Loki marveled at how quickly things could change, at how easily something could flip toward his benefit or detriment. Without Ash coming to see him, would anyone have known in time? He forced the morbid thoughts from his mind to continue observing her.

After a few laps, she seemed satisfied and returned to his side where he sat on the ledge. Somehow as her hip pressed into his when she sat down next to him, it sparked more heat than the warm waters of the bath. Water droplets glistened on her skin and in her hair like chips of sapphire. Her eyes flicked to his as she settled. When Ash caught sight of his face, her bottom lip sliding between her teeth and she let out a soft exhale, eyes flashing red. “Yes?”

It was interesting, Loki thought, to hear the mix of arousal and amusement in her tone. He wrapped his arms around her and brought her to his chest, pressing a tender kiss to the middle of her forehead. Rather than immediately acting on his building lust, he found himself rocking her gently and caressing her shoulders. A confession of the obvious fell from his lips. “I love you.” He paused, pushing back at the wave of emotion threatening to rise. “You’re my heart and soul.”

A soft laugh, not one meant to mock but rather to show pleasure and happiness, left her lips. “And I love you, Loki, fiercely, dangerously, irrevocably.” Ash ran her fingers gingerly over the already-healed area of his back that she scratched the previous night in her ecstasy. “I love you now, and I will love you always. You’re my moon and stars, the sun of my life.”

Loki rested his cheek on the top of her head and sighed contentedly, torn between wanting to simply hold her close in the silence and stillness of the bath, away from his obligations and grievances, and wanting to slip inside of her to return them to that place of rapture, something euphoric between madness and passion, that they discovered together. When she wriggled out of his grasp and looked at him from underneath her lashes, he noticed with a thrill that Ash seemed to have the same idea. Her fingers twined with his and she yanked playfully on his wrist, a coy curve to her lips. “Come on my love.”

Ash had him, both then and every time to come afterward. With that expression, with her hand loosely gripping his, she could have led him anywhere, even to his death, and he would follow her with a smile. _Damn_ , he thought vaguely, eyes catching and lingering on the lines of her figure as she moved. Every twist and sway of her hips only drove him further to distraction. Without knowing where he was beforehand, he would have been utterly lost. He somehow had the presence of mind not to stumble on the steps, so caught up both with the present and the cascading crescendo of his need, not to mention with the memories of falling asleep with her folded in his arms, the sensation of the shell of her ear pressed to his heart as they lay together between lovemaking, or the way that her scent interweaving with his made his heart clench deliciously and painfully.

They barely made it three steps from the edge of the water. Loki had no patience for returning to his bedchamber. He met her gaze, searching out her permission as he stopped walking and knelt next to her. She cocked her head curiously, not quite cottoning on until he lifted her left leg onto his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her waist and his fingers and tongue sought out the slick heat that he was already convinced would drive him to madness. Her head fell back immediately, eyes fluttering closed. At that moment Loki could no longer deny that the breathless way Ash moaned his name could convince him to level kingdoms and topple empires, to say ‘fuck all the rest’, to kill.

Every time her thighs trembled he slowed his pace, making every effort to hold her upright as he coaxed out those feral, ecstatic sounds he so adored. Every tug on his hair stoked the fire growing in his lower belly, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist sinking into her oblivion before long.

His wait would be short-lived.

Ash’s chin dropped to her chest, two pools of molten honey boring into his and his own steadily cataloging every sound or facial expression she made. She bit her lip again in the way she had earlier in the water, her desire completely unveiled for him to see. The dark-honey light-amber shifted to gleam a positively bloody crimson as she carefully pushed him away from her. Loki’s entire being anguished until she lowered herself onto the floor, reaching for him and dragging him down with her as she lay on her back, winding her legs high on his waist. Her mouth descended on his pulse-point with more than a hint of teeth between frantic kisses. He tilted his head a fraction of an inch to find her own pulse-point as he slid into her, stilling for a moment with the already-familiar clench of her around him. A thumb and forefinger plucking lightly at one of her nipples until she loosened enough for him to start moving again.

Unlike with human women or with women of Asgard, she possessed a peculiar fae biological trait. Rather than showing disinterest or a lack of arousal, she tightened around him the more aroused she became, so that every time he brought her release she clamped down on him and became even more impossibly tight. The trick to it, of course, was to apply stimulation to her ears, breasts, or a specific spot on her lower back, then the constriction would lessen just enough to be bearable. Until, that is, she came again. It was maddening in a way, as maddening as her heady scent, her feral cries, the intoxicating spicy-sweet wine of her blood spilling across his tongue or the aphrodisiac of her arousal glistening on her vulva. He craved her—craved the curve of her lips and the siren-song of her cries and the sweet nectar of her blood and saliva and arousal, craved moving within her crushing heat—in a way he had never craved anything or anyone before, not even the approval or love of his family and Asgard’s people.

Loki shook his head to clear away some of the haze of his thoughts just in time to hear Ash’s pleased humming fill the air between them and to feel her fingers tangle in his hair. He trailed his hand lazily up her leg to her hip, fingers splayed. It was likely she actually did emit some sort of aphrodisiac, he mused, though he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset about that. His attraction to her extended far past her emitting something that only enhanced his physical and psychological pleasure. It didn’t, after all, make him fall in love with her or want her. He’d loved her for years, before their lips ever met: loved each of her freckles, the sound of her laugh, her love of music, the sensation of her smaller hand in his. He’d fantasized about what it would feel like to kiss her or to touch her hair, about what she would feel like around his cock. No, loving her and wanting her had nothing to do with something she couldn’t even consciously manipulate.

More, the reality far surpassed the fantasy.

Loki found himself reveling in the simple contact of their skin, in the way his name sounded like a prayer when she whispered delighted, breathless praise and encouragement into his ear. He concentrated on drawing forth another scream from her. He found that the deeper and harder he drove into Ash, the more she writhed and growled, clenching around him so deliciously that his vision blurred and his ears rang. His pace and depth might have felt brutal to someone else, but evidently for her it only brought her further into dizzying ecstasy.

This time when he fell into that rhapsodic place beyond all reason, he temporarily lost his sight. Black spots edged his vision, then blotted it out entirely. He bowed his head until his forehead made contact with her collarbone, biting down on her shoulder harder than he meant to as he unraveled. When he could finally form a coherent thought, Loki raised onto his elbows to look down at Ash. Immediately, the gooey, tender look she wore for him melted his insides. She raised her left hand and ghosted it over his cheek. She sounded completely lovestruck when she spoke, though not in the foolish way some of the women at court did. “I love my mate. My mate is so lovely, the _best_ mate.”

Panting but pleased, he murmured, genuinely curious, “How did we ever hide our feelings and desires from each other?”

She rose up far enough on her elbows to plant a soft kiss at the end of his nose. “I suppose we’re both excellent liars,” she teased as her forehead met his and her eyes—returned to their usual honey-amber once more—closed for a moment in contentment. She sighed happily, then her eyes flicked back open and she confessed in a whisper, “I never hid that I loved you—only the rest.”

He chuckled at the first part and softened at the last, his heart fluttering in his chest as he pressed a brief kiss to her lips. “I suppose.” He sighed and rolled off of her, sensitive even to the air as he pulled free of her insanity-inducing hold. “Now we really should get to _actually_ bathing. I’m sure the servant or servants attending me today will have a conniption if I don’t answer the door when they return with our meal.”

Ash made a small noise of agreement as she turned onto her side. “You’re probably right, and they’ll be especially worried after your lengthy illness.”

Loki turned his head and smirked at her. “Oh my love, I know I’m right, now please get in the water.”

Ash rolled her eyes fondly, snorting in amusement. “I see that at least your mother taught you manners.”

Loki’s expression grew devious. “Oh, I’ll only ask for so long before I move you myself.”

Ash sat up indignantly, bumping his shoulder with her own and crossing her arms stubbornly. “You wouldn’t dare, Sweets.”

Loki grinned down at her with mischief gleaming from the depths of his eyes, not swayed in the least by her other nickname for him, one he earned for his sweet-tooth. “Wouldn’t I, my heart?”

Ash shot him a pouty, wounded look that caught him off guard—enough that he yelped in surprise when he found himself tumbling into the water with her after she smirked and lunged toward him. Loki had the presence of mind to hold his breath before he went under. He oriented himself and stood with his arms crossed and eyebrows nearly at his hairline, though his twitching lips and the playful glint still in his gaze detracted from the serious demeanor he tried to adopt. Ash merely gave him an innocent look, batting her long lashes at him in a way that, yes, _was_ absolutely working. “We’re in the water,” she told him in a tone as deceptively innocent as her face.

“Yes,” Loki agreed, “I suppose we are. And you, Little Magpie, are a dirty cheat.”

Ash merely shrugged, completely unrepentant. His attempts to play at chastisement flew to the west wind. Her eyes widened comically in response to his wicked smile right before he splashed her in the face. She fled from him with a screech, ducking underwater to escape him, but Loki wouldn’t have it and gave chase. He plucked her out of the water and held her to his chest, trapping her against him as he tickled her. She let loose another hybrid sound, this one something between a shriek and a giggle. “No, no Loki! Little Crow, _please_ ,” Ash begged.

“I seem to have temporarily lost all sense of hearing,” Loki announced casually.

“ _Please_ ,” Ash repeated, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

He only held onto her for a moment longer before he set her down on the ledge, releasing her with one final tickle and a kiss at the corner of her mouth. He could already tell that it would be difficult to deny her things, especially if she pleaded with him. He resigned himself to it as he levitated two bars of soap toward them. Made with lavender and rosemary, they gave off a light, clean smell. Loki immediately set to work scrubbing at his face. Ash sniffed at her bar appreciatively before lathering up herself.

Ten minutes later they emerged from the bathing chamber together feeling cleansed and refreshed. Ash carried her recently dry and folded clothes from the day before, although when it came time to dress, rather than put them back on she hid them in the false back in his wardrobe that he’d shown her years earlier, then stole one of his clean tunics. As she slipped it over her head, Loki, amused, drew her in for a kiss, one hand cupping her bare rear underneath the hem of the tunic. “You’re going to need to wear undergarments and make that a bit longer unless you intend to steal my trousers as well.”

Ash huffed in a put-upon way. “It’s not like anyone’s going to see me, Loki.” She smiled playfully at him, taking on that lightly teasing, affectionate tone that he’d grown used to over the years as she pressed against him. “Besides, wouldn’t you prefer it this way?”

He chuckled, lust lurking just beneath the surface. “I would, but if you’re to meet anyone here—”

Loki broke off as Ash instantly grew more serious, shaking her head furiously. “You know why I can’t,” she whispered, staring up at him and looking as if she might cry. “They might try to keep us apart, and I can’t…. I _won’t—”_

He shushed her, bringing her to his chest. He kissed the top of her head, trying to soothe her by rubbing small circles onto her back. “No, my love. I won’t let them.” He continued to cradle her close as he removed one of the rings he wore, which happened to be on his left hand, and transferred it to her right ring finger. Being charmed to adjust to the wearer, it automatically resized to fit her. As Ash looked down at the metal band now resting below her knuckle, Loki transferred one of his other rings to his own ring finger. The second ring made a slight, barely noticeable adjustment, as there was far less difference between his own two hands than there would be between his hand and hers.

Ash tipped her head up and back to look into his eyes, understanding etched onto her features. “They won’t recognize this as a valid marriage without a ceremony—not to mention the fact that we mated only _yesterday_.” She meant, of course, the formation of their bond, not merely the physical sex act.

Loki held her gaze, appearing unnervingly calm. “While that may be correct, are you telling me that the fae possess none of their own means of marriage?”

Ash blushed and looked away. “Yes, of course we do—many just don’t bother if they’re already mated to each other, and for some it’s one and the same.”

“Ah,” Loki pressed, “And do you really think our feelings will change if we enact a formal courtship? Will they change if we wait to marry, especially if, as you put it, we may find that we see ourselves as married regardless?”

Her attention snapped back onto him and Ash focused on his face unwaveringly, finding only steadfast determination and earnestness there no matter how long she stood studying him. Without asking, judging only by the stubborn set of his mouth and the adamant light in his eyes, Ash knew Loki had already resolved himself to it. The only thing capable of truly impeding her marriage to him would be her own willingness to do so. Her consent, not the opinions of others, would drive his decision, and no one, not even his mother, whose opinions he valued so highly, nor the distaste of anyone at court, including his father and brother, could stop him now. She shook her head slowly. “No, not my feelings, anyway.” The smile she gave him was wistful and heartbreaking. “All of my people mate for life. I’ll always love you, always be bonded to you, even after all breath leaves my body. I simply don’t want you to rush into things and make a hasty decision before you have more time to consider this.”

Loki tucked her head underneath his chin and gently squeezed her. “There’s nothing left to consider. I’m of the same mind, so we’ve no reason to delay. We’ll be wed by your people, and until then this will simply show you are my intended. The court may not be happy about it, but it will be no less binding.”

“That’s not entirely true…. It is easier to prevent a marriage than it is to dissolve or annul one. It may be in our best interests not to tell them, if this is what you truly wish,” Ash noted, lips pursed and eyebrows drawn together in concern. “It would also be best to do it as quickly as possible, by the Old Magic, before anyone has a chance to object.”

Loki considered her words, then nodded his agreement. “You’re right, my love, I think those are sound assumptions. We’ll leave at once, after we’ve had our meal.”

Ash appeared startled. “So quickly, Loki?”

He kissed he chin. “What better time than today when we know we will be left to our own devices for hours on end, unattended unless we call for someone?”

As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door, followed by a call from Brandr announcing two servants from the kitchens, Gren and Gilda. It was odd, to no longer see Ash but yet to still feel her body against his, damnably soft and sweet-smelling. A pang filled his chest at their separation as she stepped back from him, but Loki pushed the sensation aside. He strode to the door to admit Gren and Gilda, who turned out to be a pair of young siblings, one carrying a tray burdened down with several covered dishes and the other carrying a small pitcher. He directed them to set the trays on his nightstand with the excuse that he still tired easily, then told them to leave with all haste. He shut the main door to his chambers behind him with a genuine sense of relief, then made his way to his bed, where he flopped down in a rather undignified manner.

A moment later, Ash reappeared. In the short time it took him to accept the food sent straight from the kitchens, she had apparently altered his tunic to be a flowing moss-green dress with bell-shaped sleeves. The garment now fell to her ankles rather than ending abruptly mid-thigh, accented with silver edging, embroidery, and embellishments.

“I’ll be glad when you’re my wife,” Loki grumbled halfheartedly as she sat on what he already thought of as _her_ side of _their_ bed. “I so dislike having to watch you disappear again and again.”

Ash snorted, amused. “So happy to hear our union will please you for that reason.”

Loki shifted into a more comfortable position sitting with his back against a stack of fluffed pillows backed by his headboard. He huffed. “For more than that reason, obviously.”

The food this time consisted of a hearty vegetable stew accompanied by fresh crusty bread, cheese, roasted chicken, and another serving of bland oatmeal mixed with mashed apples. The pitcher contained slightly chilled milk. They ate and drank their fill quietly with extra to spare, which Ash then put under both a preservation charm and a tamper-proof charm before setting it all to the side so they could finish it later. She waited patiently as Loki combed and tied his hair back with a leather thong, then donned his light armor and a traveling cloak. He reached into his wardrobe for a second of the latter, passing a spare to Ash. A double of him flickered to life on his bed, apparently intent on reading a book. He erected a proximity alert that would notify him if someone tried entering his chambers or breaching his wards, and one simply to repulse others away from his chambers. That, paired with his verbal request to the healers, should ensure that no one would come to disturb him.

It was child’s play to then exit his chambers via his balcony as he transformed into a crow. At his side, Ash transformed into a magpie. Together, they took flight with her slightly in the lead. The further they got away from the palace, the more they seemed to relax, until the large stone building and the surrounding city faded to a pinprick and they could finally take a few minutes to bask in the joys of flight. They wheeled and dived, chasing after each other. Their play came to an end as they dodged past a few guards out on border patrol. Loki sensed a spot in the empty air in front of them that seemed different than the rest. His instincts proved true a second later as he followed Ash through and found himself in an entirely different landscape—one that reminded him of Alfheim.

After flying for a little over an hour, Ash alighted midway in a tree that was her namesake. Loki perched beside her. They caught their breath, then fluttered to the ground together, transforming as soon as the soles of their feet touched down onto the field. A sense of uneasiness prickled at Loki’s senses. As if sensing his discomfort, Ash’s hand slipped into his. As they stood getting their bearings, seven figures emerged out of the surrounding forest, each as wild-looking as Ash herself usually appeared. Many wore garments like simple tunics and leggings regardless of gender, though a few were naked and others wore only one or the other but not both. All of them had intricate braided styles with adornments ranging from shells and beads to feathers, flowers, leaves, ribbons or sinew woven into their hair. 

A taller figure that seemed male inclined his head to her. “Ash.”

She inclined her head back to him. “Alder.”

They grinned at each other, then threw their arms around each other. Loki tensed until Ash turned to him with a smile. “Loki, this is my elder brother Alder. He’s from a different brood.” She gestured at Loki as she spoke to Alder. “Alder, this is my mate, Loki.”

Alder’s eyes, darker than Ash’s, locked onto Loki with an intensity that made him tense again in preparation for an attack. Alder, however, merely flashed him a warm smile that conveyed welcome despite the glint of fang. “Ah, I see.”

Loki stood stiffly as they all studied him. Ash squeezed his hand comfortingly as she cut right to the heart of the matter. “Alder, Loki and I would like to be wed under the Old Magic, but we need witnesses. Will you bear witness?”

Alder’s expression flickered only for a moment toward interest, and he studied Loki even more intently. “Yes, as well as all of my children and their mates and children.”

Ash beamed. “Thank you. May we get started?”

Alder considered it. “Yes. I’ll gather the others. You know where to take him?”

Loki hid his surprise. Usually even an elopement required some sort of planning, and he had hardly expected Alder to agree so easily. And yet soon, after another short flight, he found himself being led by Ash up a steep hill through a series of twelve archways. Ash guided him confidently through the middle of each one.

“I’m taking you to our ritual grounds,” she explained. “Each of these gates is for one of the twelve elements we recognize.”

Loki gazed steadily at her as she continued talking, feeling concentrated magical energy swirling around them like currents, gaining strength the further they walked. “There are the primary elements, the ones you can touch, and the ones you may already be familiar with—Earth, Air, Fire, and Water.”

Ash had been staring straight ahead at the path but glanced at him. “Then there are the intangible secondary ones we can’t, but which always surround us—Time, Space, Light, and Dark.”

Loki caught a glimpse of a symbol out of the corner of his eye, and when he sought it out he saw it at the center of the arch, which had strange writing running along it.

“Finally, we have the tertiary elements, also intangible, but those which affect us and our reality, rather than those that surround us or compose it: Luck, Fate, Chaos, and Order.”

As they exited the last arch, they reached the crest of the hill. A river tumbling down from a higher elevation ran by them, the bank steep. Large stone monuments inscribed with more writing and symbols ringed the area within a circle of enormous trees. Ash brought them to a stop in front of a low stone altar, turning to stare into his face with an intensity Loki had yet to see, even when they made love for the first time and formed their mate-bond. The trees and pillars of stone surrounding them cast long shadows, so that it seemed as if they stood amongst giants. She raised her free hand to trace his jawline. “We passed through each of the elements to get here, and here they surround us.”

Loki closed his eyes to gingerly send out feelers, testing the atmosphere. There was the scent of magic in the air, sharp, shocking like electricity as it moved against them, pushing and pulling and simply wrapping them up in its embrace, like the casual touch of an idle lover. He stood silently with his mate simply basking in the nearly perfectly tangible intangibles, until eventually footsteps on the path near them forced him to open his eyes again. A small procession of fae, including the ones from the clearing earlier, spread out around them. Alder walked toward them with a woman who shared features with both him and Ash, though she also looked somehow different. It wasn’t anything he could place his finger on, per se, but something he recognized nonetheless. The woman extended her hands, and Ash let go of his temporarily to clasp hands with her. “Grandmother Willow.”

Grandmother Willow beamed radiantly at her. “Ah, Ash, daughter of my own daughter, Dahlia, and her mate, Thistle. You’re the one to be wed today?”

Loki swallowed thickly. Her answering grin, at once eager and shy, plucked at his own heartstrings

“Yes, Grandmother, to Loki.” Upon hearing his name, he forced himself to relax.

Grandmother Willow scrutinized him thoroughly, though her pleasant expression never faded. “He has a good heart,” the old one, for she _was_ old and it showed, commented.

Loki nearly melted when Ash, a smile in her voice, replied fondly, “I know it well.”

“I see.” Grandmother Willow studied the two of them together, not taking her eyes off of them as she reached into the basket carried by a younger fae who had followed directly behind her. She opened her palm, and in it lay an intact flower. “I’m not sure what Ash told you, Loki, but being married our way differs from yours. You’ve already passed through all twelve of the elements as one. Now you’ll each braid these together, and give them to each other. Cress?”

The young fae, Cress, brought the basket around to them. Ash immediately set to work deftly twisting the stems together without snapping off the ends. Despite the seeming absurdity of the task, Loki copied her actions. While they worked, another fae brought forth a single bowl and set it on the altar. Alder snapped his fingers and the single spark that erupted soon grew into a small flame. Someone else Loki didn’t know passed Alder a short, dangerously sharp blade, which he fed through the flames as someone might do when sterilizing a weapon or tool. Not long afterward, Ash finished off her chain of flowers and wove the ends together so that it made a single, unbroken circle large enough to wear. As Loki got to the end of his own chain and closed it, Grandmother Willow spoke again. “Now, adorn each other.”

Ash lifted her woven flowers over his head, stretching onto her tiptoes to do so. Seeing her struggle a bit because of their height difference, Loki bowed his head so that she could reach him, and in the end the interwoven crown of flowers came to rest comfortably atop his head. He then gingerly put herd onto her, careful not to muss her delicate braids. She brought his hands up to brush her lips over his knuckles. “It’s now time to summon the Old Magic, my love.”

Staring into his eyes, she cleared her throat and raised her voice so that it carried. “I, Ash, daughter of Dahlia and Thistle, call down the Old Magic from before the division of light and dark, the magic of blood and bone, to bind and to bear witness, to embrace us and to be embraced by us as we embrace each other, for now and always. A circle has no beginning and no ending.”

Alder handed her the cured blade. Loki’s ears began ringing even as the roar of the river increased and the wind picked up pace past a gentle breeze to a more forceful one. The shadows gleamed with dark light while the light darkened with bright shadows. The fire leapt, time seemed to slow, and everything around him somehow gained finer edges and smoother planes, thrown into shape relief. The ambient magic around them crackled with vigor, working into a frenzy. Without pause, as if the elements weren’t working into a fever pitch around them one by one, Ash took it and pricked the fingers of her right hand. “As we invoke the Old Magic to join us and recognize our bond, we pay the blood price for protection, guidance, and succor.” She let a drop from each finger fall into the bowl, then reached for Loki’s right hand. Her fingers smeared blood on the back of it as she held it. When her eyes caught his, they were adoring, completely full of love, and shining. Her voice dropped so that her words only carried to him. “Do you want me to do it, or would you like to, Little Crow?”

Loki gently took the blade from her and methodically pricked each of his own fingers, adding his blood to the bowl. When the last drop fell into the surface, it all mingled together, collecting in the center. He felt more than heard a humming, almost like singing. He flexed his bloody fingers reflexively as he felt an invisible force wrapping tightly around his wrist. If Ash felt a similar sensation, she continued the ritual without missing a beat. She picked the bowl up and dipped her finger into the contents, then with precision left a dot of blood on each of their lips. This time when she spoke, his hands clasped in hers again, he could almost hear another layer of words, another voice alongside her own—a double timber created by the Old Magic channeling through her and guiding the ceremony.

“As souls join, there is no beginning and no ending between them: they are one. I call on the Old Magic to see us and to bless our joining as we swear dedication to each other: a heart for a heart, blood for blood, as long as we both wish it, our troubles and our triumphs, our joys and our struggles, becoming as one; finding sanctuary and unconditional love in each other, giving each other unending mercy and grace, and showing each other undying loyalty and devotion; bound heart, soul, and magic to each other, a solemn vow sealed with a kiss.”

At their side, across the altar, Alder added wine into the bowl of blood, mixed it, then tossed the mingled contents into the fire, which hissed and spat, leaping nearly a foot into the air.

The longer Loki gazed into her eyes, the more he felt as if he were falling through the stars. Ash seemed radiant with an inner light, her wrist and, as he saw when he looked down at himself again, his own glowing gently, darkly, with magic, as were their lips. If he kissed her now, he could seal the vow. _Was there ever any question of it?_ He closed his eyes and bowed his head for the second time, this time to choose her, to choose _them_ and their bond. His tingling lips burned with something like cold fire when they met hers, a sensation that spread to his throat, then his chest, and eventually throughout his entire body until he felt lightheaded. He might have even stopped breathing for a moment, he mused through the dizzying sensations rushing through him. The magic around them beat against him like a heartbeat, a thrumming pulse. He could feel the binding taking root, could feel the frigid magma pooling in his chest, wrapping around his wrist like an octopus, bubbling in his blood.

He opened his eyes again when he felt the magic settling as it sunk past his skin even into the marrow of his bones and beyond, leaching into his being. A moment later, a tendril of it flared on his ring finger. Bringing their hands up to examine it, Loki noticed that, aside from the already drying blood, there was something else different about it: a second ring adorned his finger underneath the one he’d slipped on earlier. A quick glimpse at Ash’s hand revealed that she too sported a second ring identical to his own, the pair of which glinted blackly like obsidian. His emerald eyes flicked from their clasped, bloody, ringed hands to Ash, who no longer glowed as fiercely as before, as if the sentient magic she called down was slowly releasing its influence on her. When she spoke, she sounded like herself. “We bid the Old Magic farewell until the next time we call for it.”

She released the presence and then suddenly there she stood wholly herself, his mate and now his _wife_ , irrevocably so unless they chose to separate. No force other than their own wills could pry them apart. Others might not like it, but their feelings be damned. Loki couldn’t help it: he had to seek out her lips. The Frost Giants could take the court. He’d care for himself and his own and fuck the rest.

Focused entirely on his wife, he barely noticed the large, colorful, and intricately patterned sheet that descended temporarily over them. He cradled her in his arms underneath it, vaguely noting it as part of the ceremony. _A symbolic version of the bedding, perhaps?_ If they’d married on Asgard, the court would have settled for no less than a _public_ , completely literal bedding ceremony with at least five Lords and Ladies present if not the entire court. They’d each have been stripped to their undergarments and carried to a bedding chamber. This—this ceremony he’d participated in, this choice he’d made to elope with his mate that ended in a private wedding under the open sky, performed amongst and by magic in front of Ash’s kin whose only concern was their mutual consent and happiness—this had been the correct conclusion. Come what may, he couldn’t regret a single moment—not her soft body against his, not her sweet breath and warm mouth, not her scent heady in the air, not her hands in his hair again, not the flowers scattered over them.

A throat clearing pointedly broke through his thoughts, and Loki twisted away to end their kiss, glancing around the clearing. He discovered everyone from Grandmother Willow to Cress giving them warm smiles. The former stepped forward, eyes twinkling. “That was very well done. You led the ceremony well, Ash, though of course you had the Old Magic speaking through you. I can see that you both have love in your eyes. That’s good—it’ll serve you well.” She dipped her head to them, then patted Loki’s shoulder as she ambled past in the direction of the path, adding casually, “Best be good to her now, young prince, you hear? Don’t make us come for you.”

Behind him, his wife’s elder brother Alder threw his head back, guffawing.

Some things, apparently, held true across realms. Mistreat her, and he might very well make war with her people—or at least with her overzealous brother and her startlingly spry, casually threatening grandmother.


	3. The Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we have one awkward but humorous situation, one distressing situation, and a surprise. Oh, and of course the resident feels/smut/fluff combination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Executive dysfunction kicked my ass with this one, but thank fuck I have this story to fall back on with everything going on lately.

With the main ritual out of the way and a need to get back before Loki could be missed, he and Ash declined staying longer. Alder offered them a flask of elderberry wine each to take with them, hugging his younger sister tightly before they set off back down the path. Her fingers twined with his, Ash led Loki back through the elemental archways with her kin dancing around them, some playing carved reed instruments and some humming or singing. Others continued to throw handfuls of whole flower-heads and solitary petals at them as they walked until they stepped through the last archway. Alder stole another embrace from Ash, and then she and Loki were transforming into their winged forms and taking flight.

Any attempts to process the ceremony he’d just completed were banished from his mind as Ash let out an excited caw. Loki felt a spike of alarm that eased when he noticed her completing several complicated maneuvers, apparently just for the pure joy of it. As soon as he registered that she was only playing around again, not being attacked, he relaxed completely, enough to join in her fun. They chased each other back to that midair pathway between her realm and his own, crossing over the border into Asgard with little issue. The aerial play ceased as soon as the first buildings came back into view, lest they not blend in as normal birds. They took an indirect route back to the palace, circling around in a wide loop to approach from a different angle than the one they used to leave. Loki didn’t breathe easily until they fluttered onto his balcony, whole and unharmed. In the blink of an eye they stood together, the transformation so seamless that it flowed almost as an afterthought. He turned to Ash and immediately pulled her to him, holding her close and kissing her hair. “Welcome home, my heart.”

Ash pressed her face into the side of his neck and inhaled deeply, chuckling fondly. “This isn’t home, Loki, my silly mate. _You_ are. Wherever you go is the right place for me to be.”

His hold on her tightened and he delivered another kiss to her hair, inhaling her in turn. “And my home is with you.”

Completely content and immersed in each other, they stood in the sunlight for a long while. They eventually moved back into his chambers, where Loki carefully removed their flower crowns and preserved them with a spell first before he peeled off his armor and cloak with a sigh of relief. He quietly put the lot away in his wardrobe, released his hair from its binding, and changed into an outfit reserved for lounging, watching Ash out of the corner of his eye. She still wore the green tunic-turned-dress and was examining his bookshelf. He could feel an indulgent smile forming in the curl of his lip as he watched her, her brow crinkled slightly in concentration as she skimmed the titles. He reached into his wardrobe and selected a yellow tunic that he thought made him look rather sickly with his coloring, but which would complement the golden undertone to her skin quite well. Almost as an afterthought, he grabbed a pair of trousers as well for good measure, noting with a critical eye that there was already a pair missing. He shut the wardrobe and crossed the room to her, winding his arms around her waist and setting his chin on her shoulder. “I have another tunic you can alter to your liking. The color suits you far more than it does me, my love.”

His mate turned in his arms, her lips fluttering briefly over his pulse-point. She took the tunic from his hands, holding it up to herself. “You might be right, my heart.” Ash grinned. “Although I’m of the opinion that anything you wear would suit you.” She received the trousers from him next. With a wave of her hand, the tunic and trousers suspended in the air. As Loki watched, the stitching came undone so that soon only unbound strips of cloth remained. The cloth shimmered as she transmuted it into something else. The pieces originally from the trousers changed color to match that of the tunic, after which the two melded together, spreading and lengthening until another full dress with wide bell sleeves levitated in their place. Dandelions in different stages of development decorated the fabric, outlined in gold thread. Ash plucked the dress from the air with a satisfied look on her face. It slid easily into a coy smirk that made Loki want to remove the green dress she wore to consummate their marriage in a more literal sense. “Yes, that _will_ be quite lovely. Thank you, but I fear if you keep giving me clothing from your wardrobe to wear you shall have nothing left for yourself.”

He rather thought he could grow incredibly fond indeed of the devious glint in his friend’s eye. “Perhaps I should give you less of it to wear then?”

She snickered. “That could be arranged.” She banished the yellow dress to his wardrobe, not taking her eyes off of him as the door opened to admit the garment. She undid the ties to the dress she wore, allowing it to gape open so that it exposed her front. Unbidden he found himself staring nearly worshipfully at the plump swell of her breasts, at the smooth curve of her stomach and at the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. She shimmied out of her sleeves and let her green dress fall to the floor, where it pooled at her ankles. Ash smirked knowingly at him, then walked past him toward his wardrobe to rummage around for a nightshirt, which she transfigured into a muted dove gray dress with a teardrop-shaped pattern clearly meant for lounging, unlike the more elaborately decorated yellow and green dresses she now possessed. Loki swallowed thickly, his trousers feeling increasingly uncomfortable even after she settled her third dress about her. He couldn’t stop thinking about the sight of her, about the sensation of sliding into her warmth that very morning or her screams. He wanted to, no he _needed to,_ do that again. For now, though, he felt content to merely bask in her presence.

The wardrobe door closed with an oddly sharp click that drug him out of the haze of lust blanketing his mind. She padded back to his side and chose a book entirely dedicated to listing the various types of plants on Asgard, their properties, and their uses in recipes both mundane and magical, then carried it with her to the bed. She crawled to the center and settled in to read with cushions supporting her as she leaned against the headboard. He decided on a book on stitch and knot magic and joined her, carefully draping his arm over her shoulders. Ash leaned her head on his shoulder, and Loki leaned into her so that his cheek rested against the top of her head. They spent the next few hours reading quietly until Loki started nodding off, woken when Ash gently took his book from his hands, marked his place and set both of their chosen books on his nightstand.

Loki stretched luxuriously, immediately met with another light kiss from Ash. His sigh transitioned into a moan when she climbed into his lap to straddle him. He couldn’t hold himself back, rutting upward helplessly beneath the heat radiating from her. She continued peppering light kisses over his face and neck. As she lay forward to suck carefully on his earlobe, Loki reached underneath her to shove his trousers down far enough to free himself. Ash chuckled and dragged her teeth over the earlobe still in her mouth. She released it and peered down at Loki. His pupils were blown, amidst a tumultuous sea of emerald green. “You should rest,” Ash admonished lightly.

Loki growled in frustration and rolled over so that he lay over top of Ash, braced on his elbows and sprawled between her thighs. His hands glided up her legs, hiking the skirt of her dress up above her waist. “I can rest later. Right now I want to make love to my wife, if she’s willing.”

Ash rolled her eyes as she arched upward to press into him, bare skin to bare skin. She brought her legs up so that they rested just underneath his arms. Loki hissed at the contact, shuddering. “She’s exceptionally willing, but she’s more worried about her husband passing out from overextending himself so soon after an illness.”

His head dropped onto her collarbone. “Please,” he murmured with need and excitement against her neck. “Please my sweet, if you consent, let me do this. I’m far from my limits.”

She sighed in defeat. “I merely worry about your constitution. Please don’t push yourself. We can always do this later.”

Loki tilted his face to bite deeply at her neck, which immediately elicited a cry that became an aroused snarl. He experienced a dizzying rush himself. Ash undulated upward to slide onto him, taking all of his length. She winced a bit, not being nearly as wet as the other night, but wet enough to take him. Loki panted harshly, enveloped in her warm embrace. Her walls twitched, squeezing him deliciously. He slid his hands underneath her, holding her up at an angle with one half of her rear gripped tightly in each hand. His mind flashed to the other night, when he’d hit spots inside of Ash that made her keen with pleasure. Part of him wanted to start off soft and slow, and part of him wanted to drive into her immediately. Breaking his hold to judge her reaction, Loki caught sight of the flecks of crimson amidst the honey-amber and the restrained desire. He tipped more toward earning a scream from her lips, but the thought of being that rough without her being wetter didn’t sit well with him. He knew that for it to remain pleasurable for her, she needed more stimulation first. He lowered her back to the bed, leaning over her to trail kisses up her neck to her ear.

As he traced over the shell with his tongue and drew the point between his lips, Ash squirmed beneath him. “Loki…”

“Shh, love,” he whispered, laving over the underside and using the moment to enact another contraceptive spell. She whined, hips bucking when his fingers slipped between them to caress the tender nub shrouded by a thin hood.

Between those two sensitive areas, he soon had her slick enough to put more force behind his thrusts. Ash buried one hand in his unbound hair, wrapping the end of it around her fingers and drawing his head back so that the action bared his throat to her. Loki knew what would happen even before her fangs sank into the vulnerable flesh. His blood welled out of the wound onto her waiting tongue, accompanied by another thrill that mellowed into a blissful haze. She disengaged that bite, blood still oozing from his wound, to bite into his shoulder. He took it as his cue and ceased his previous attentions to bite into hers, locking them together. His hands slid under her again as he tilted her lower half upward to slam deeper into her. Despite the beginnings of a nagging tiredness starting to set in—and Ash had been right, he admitted ruefully, about how he should have rested first to recuperate after the long flight and longer illness—he knew what he wanted more than collapsing onto his pillows, dead to the world for another several hours. He all but hammered into her, relishing in every muted snarl, rumbling growl, and muffled scream, knowing that if he could see her eyes they would look like freshly spilled blood. Every pleasured sound that left her completely enthralled him, while her scent rose in the air, potent and inebriating. At every constriction of velvet heat around his girth he nearly stuttered to a halt, his fingertips frantically searching out that small patch at the base of her spine to trace.

As Ash writhed around after her latest orgasm, the nails of her free had dug into his shoulder full-force, enough to draw blood. She detached her mouth from his shoulder temporarily to whisper in his ear, a few drops of his blood dripping onto both of them. “Loki, spill inside of me, my prince. I want you to fill me.”

Her teeth penetrated the spot just beneath his ear on the side of his neck. Her words seemed to echo in his mind, and before he knew it he came abruptly with no warning, caught in a searing crescendo as blackness once more washed over his vision. Their magic and life force bled through each other, completely intermingling so that anywhere he turned, part of her touched part of him and vice versa, until there was no distinction between whose hand was on whose spine. Tide after tide crashed through him, dizzying, blinding, deafening. One moment, he felt a ripple go through their magic, spreading outward as if on the surface of a pond. In the next moment, a horrendous crash rent the air as his chamber door was battered down and knocked clear across the room, followed by seven figures who rushed in with weapons raised. He couldn’t control his last desperate thrusts as he did as Ash asked, though when he finally managed to stop moving, a tense silence followed. With more than a little reluctance, Loki looked up at their audience, cheeks aflame.

An idle part of his conscious mind _had_ noticed the energy rising, the sparks of magic they threw off with every twisting ebb and flow of their bodies. It hadn’t concerned him. His magic should have held. It _should._ In fact, he had previously sensed no fraying at the edges, no cracks, no slow dissolution of his apparently not so impenetrable wards now lying in shambles around them, torn apart from the inside, and worse yet— _and worse yet_ —worse than the two of them accidentally shredding his wards and being discovered, here he found himself being gawked at by his thoughtless, reckless, impulsive brother Thor accompanied by his at times insufferable band of loyal compatriots, the Warriors Three and Lady Sif, as well as two of the guards tasked with guarding Loki, Brandr and Arnar. Loki’s own feelings of camaraderie and friendship toward Sif and the Warriors Three fluctuated regularly, so that he might feel closer or less close to them depending on the day, though he supposed he could always count on their support in battle or at court as trustworthy allies. That hardly mattered as the group stood there wide-eyed with shock, stunned into silence and adding to his own embarrassment with their facial expressions, ranging from mild chagrined surprise to outright discomfited horror—Thor most of all.

The indignity of it, that anyone should see his magic fail— _for how could he not see it as a failure?_ The indignity of the boorish fool and his most loyal barging into his chambers and gaping at him like a fish left to suffocate on a bank. The indignity of the absolute _gall_ of that flirty lush Fandral as his eyes, which often lingered far longer than they ought to on any man’s wife, now lingered on Ash, who lay mostly exposed beneath Loki with her dress having been rucked up past her breasts while they made love.

_How dare that cocky little weasel—_

His bitterness fell away toward protectiveness and instead of lingering on the fleeting thought of beating Fandral within an inch of his life for violating Ash’s dignity, her privacy, her consent without even the decency to look as properly ashamed as Loki thought he should at his intrusion in their personal space, Loki eased out of Ash, ignoring his own physical sensitivity and discomfort at being exposed to care for her. He twisted to the side to grab the ends of his blankets and draw them over her, since she couldn’t exactly get underneath them at the moment without exposing herself further, and he wanted to spare her that. Though, judging by the alarming shades of red each onlooker wore (now including Fandral, who, Loki thought, had stared in particular fascination at the current location of most of Loki’s spilled seed), the intruders themselves obviously felt properly mortified at their blunder.

The two guards fell to one knee, dropping their gazes respectfully to the floor. “Your Grace, our deepest apologies.”

“I—” Hogun started, breaking off immediately.

“We, ah—” Fandral coughed. “Well.”

“Which is to say—” Sif tried to pick up where they left off but failed as well.

“Terribly sorry there,” Volstagg blurted.

It was Thor who finally got a proper sentence out that wasn’t a stuttered apology. By now each member of the Warriors Three, Sif, and Thor had all also averted their eyes, finding mundane things around his chambers, such as the curtains and ceiling, suddenly fascinating. Thor cleared his throat, sounding for once genuinely apologetic. “We… we came to ascertain your health. We did not realize that you would be…otherwise occupied.”

Something akin to a choking sound came from Volstagg.

Loki glared at the side of Thor’s blonde head as he tucked himself away and righted his trousers. “And what, pray tell, possessed you to do that?”

Thor blinked, turning to look at him then flinching and hurriedly looking away again, flush with his own humiliation. “Mother sent me to check on you. I brought our companions with me.”

_Ah_.

Loki raised one eyebrow, tone utterly sardonic and disbelieving. “Mother sent you to check on me, so you decided to destroy my door, storm my quarters, and ogle at us?”

If possible, Thor reddened further, completely flustered. “We heard screams, brother! We heard them as we spoke with your guards!”

“Aye, we thought you were being attacked.” Volstagg’s voice wavered between awkward, chastised shame and a sheepish guilt-ridden apology as he added to their explanation.

“We thought it might be another assassination attempt,” Hogun elaborated. “Not, ah… _this_.” The usually stoic warrior looked like he’d rather be dying at the moment.

Sif sniffed, crossing her arms as she hid her own discomposure behind haughtiness. “Clearly we didn’t expect to find you in this…” her nose wrinkled “... _condition_ , entertaining company. Based on what your Queen Mother told us, you were to be laid up for a week in recovery.”

“Not to mention the fact that you would be _completely_ defenseless as you languished _alone_ in your chambers, with foreigners everywhere underfoot,” Fandral added, as if Loki should be thanking rather than chiding them for his current embarrassment.

Loki bristled at Sif’s accusatory tone and Fandral’s insinuation of his weakness. Tensely, he muttered, “I see.”

“Mother rather thought that it would do you good to have company,” Thor continued. “She thought that familiar faces might aid in your recovery, and that we would be doing you a kindness by visiting.”

Not usually so earnest, Thor’s remorseful temperament caught Loki off guard so that he felt more disgruntled and annoyed than righteously indignant.

“I supposed I cannot fault mother for that,” Loki finally conceded, “nor you for following her suggestion, as it was sound advice, or for each of you and the guards for reacting appropriately to a perceived threat to my person. However…” Loki looked away from them toward Ash’s now covered form, her face hidden from the other’s view first by Loki’s body then by a cushion she’d used as a shield. She’d remained silent throughout the encounter so far, and judging by her flushed neck she felt self-conscious and awkward as well at having been caught out in such an uncomfortable manner. “Wait to be announced next time, or at least knock.”

Sif fingered the sword hanging at her hip. “Even if we believe an attack to be imminent?”

Loki forcefully smoothed down his hackles at the challenge and plastered a calm smile onto his face. They often went back and forth, and it was neither here nor there in the long run. “Perhaps not,” he allowed.

Silence for several moments, until Loki sighed. “Could you all wait outside or in my receiving chamber?”

Volstagg and Thor jumped at the opportunity.

“Of course, brother.”

“Yes, let’s.”

The two looked at each other then away just as quickly.

Fandral cleared his throat and bowed. “Our deepest apologies. We’ll be happy to join Thor in your receiving chambers.”

Sif merely nodded her assent, lips pinched into a thin line, while Hogun made a quiet noise of affirmation.

Brandr and Arnar murmured further apology before rising and excusing themselves to return to guarding his chamber door. Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three beat a hasty retreat lacking their usual confidence through the inner door separating his sleeping chambers from the one where he received company. Loki took it as his cue to repair the savaged outer door, resettling it into position with an irritated flick of his wrist. With it back in its usual place along with a rudimentary set of protective and silencing wards, he returned his anxious emerald gaze to the shrouded figure of his still-hiding wife in concern. “Ash?”

One honey-amber eye shone as she peeked around the edge of the cushion. “Yes?”

“They’ve gone into my receiving chamber.”

He waited with bated breath until Ash haltingly lowered the cushion in her hands, a blush infusing her topaz complexion. “Well,” she sighed, sounding tired and resigned. “One of the very things we feared has happened—discovery.”

Loki cupped her cheek in his hand, stroking it with his thumb. “But our other fear cannot come to pass. Try as they might, they cannot separate us now.”

Ash smiled reluctantly. “True. What was done cannot be undone by outsiders, only by us.”

“Still.” Loki closed his eyes as he leaned over to kiss her temple, pressing his forehead to hers. “It grieves me that you went through this undignified experience.”

Ash huffed. “I can’t say it was pleasant.”

Loki snorted indelicately. “No, I imagine it wasn’t.” He helped pull her into a sitting position. The blanket covering her pooled around her waist. Before her dress could fall back into place, Ash vanished the leaking seed that covered her thighs, though it was a bit of a lost cause, as more would undoubtedly continue to escape. “Here.” Loki summoned some of his undergarments and transfigured them to fit her frame.

Ash gratefully grabbed one of them and swung her legs over the side of the bed to pull them up as she stood. She smoothed her dress down and straightened her shoulders. “I honestly have no desire to face them right now. Would it be too much to ask of you to speak to them alone?”

“No, darling, of course I can.” And with another kiss he left her side to face his equally mortified brother and their companions. 

He braced himself mentally before he opened the door dividing his sleeping quarters from the rest of his rooms and strode through with a confidence he didn’t feel. He flicked his wrist to lock the door behind him and forced himself to cross the rest of the way and drop down in his chair by the currently cold fireplace. He could feel their eyes on him, waiting for him to break the silence first. He cleared his throat once, sighing as he leaned back and tried to affect a neutral presence. “While I appreciate the trouble you went through to visit with me today, I’m afraid I must insist that you return at a later time. Given the circumstances, I’m sure you’ll agree that now is not the most opportune time for me to entertain guests.”

When no one said anything, he glanced at them sideways through his long, still-slightly-mussed- from-sex hair. He could tell that it took quite a bit of mental fortitude for Thor to look him in the eye, even through a curtain of hair. “I’ll let mother know that you’re well but wish to have more undisturbed time to convalesce.”

_Ah, so they weren’t talking about it at the moment._ Though, based on Thor’s personality, he was sure he’d be in for some not-so-gentle ribbing in a few days when his brother's initial embarrassment wore away bit by bit. Loki felt his lips twist into something resembling a smile that he was aware came off more as an awkward grimace, followed by a jerk of his head. “Yes, that would be agreeable.” He shot to his feet, his stance wooden, ushering the lot of them out into the hallway where he tried and failed to miss the way even Brandr flushed bright red underneath his armor when he caught sight of him. He all but slammed his door once they’d gone and leaned against it wearily for support. What a catastrophe—what a way for anyone to discover Ash’s presence, and what a way for her to meet anyone at court.

Loki returned to his sleeping quarters to find Ash laying back with her hands propping up her head as she stared at the ceiling. She turned her head to look at him as he stood in the doorway, then sat up and drew her knees to her chest, dropping her chin down to hang over them and clasping her hands tightly around her lower legs. “They’ve gone? We’re alone now?”

He closed the door softly and in the blink of an eye found himself next to her again. He reached out to stroke her hair consolingly. “Yes, love, they’ve gone.”

Her eyes closed in relief. “Oh, good. I had no desire to go and sit across from them serving them food and drink while they avoided eye contact with me and tried not to think about what they saw after—after _that.”_

She had a fair point. He ran his other hand through his own messy hair with a sigh. He felt like he’d done that quite a bit in the last few minutes. “Yes, well…”

Ash lifted her head from her slouching position and leaned it into his side, nuzzling her cheek on his flank. “I don’t blame you. We didn’t know something like that would happen the first time we… finished… after the ceremony.”

He continued smoothing his hand over her now messy braids in an attempt to soothe her. He still had a knot of dread in the pit of his stomach when he thought of the teasing from his acquaintances that would be sure to follow for him. He bit his lip and wrapped his arms around her. Ash peered up at him in concern. “You still need rest, Little Crow.”

He knew she was right, but until that moment the full weight of everything had yet to hit him, even with the tiredness that came over him a few minutes prior. He offered Ash a weary smile as he pulled away and climbed into bed onto the side that already had the blankets pulled back. He started drifting to sleep almost before his head hit the pillow, then succumbed to the waiting darkness as Ash cuddled up to his side.

…

Loki rolled onto this side, warm and content, but refrained from opening his eyes for a moment. Ash—and he could somehow just tell now, beyond her scent and her magic, like a sixth sense—dropped a few lazy kisses along his jawline. Her hand slid under his tunic and onto his lower stomach, palm pressed flat against his skin. She used the gentle pressure to bring his body closer to hers. She murmured by his ear, “Did you sleep well my heart?”

He turned so that he lay facing her and her hand rested on his lower back. Ash’s eyes as she regarded him, two pools of glimmering honey-amber, held only adoration and affection. Peering into them made something warm bloom in Loki’s chest. “Yes.” He leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose, her chin, and her right cheek. “I feel rejuvenated.”

Ash placed her hand over his heart, looking pleased. “Your heartbeat is strong.”

“It becomes stronger when I look at you.” Loki couldn’t feel self-conscious about his emotions, not with her and not when she looked at him that way.

She hid her face against his chest. The heat of her blush radiated softly between their bodies. “My sweet Loki.” Her lips brushed against a patch of skin exposed by the gaping collar of this tunic.

It was his turn to blush with pleasure at the endearment in her tone. He kissed the top of her head. “You’re the sweet one, Ash. My wily vixen.”

She chuckled, one eye peeking at him. “Oh, now I've become a wily vixen have I?”

He smirked. “You seduced me, did you not, _temptress_?”

She uncovered his face to give him a faux glare. “ _Not_.”

They eventually dissolved into laughter as they attempted to tickle each other, only stopping when Loki’s stomach growled. Ash sat up instantly. He copied her, enjoying the way she assessed him—basking in the way that she simply saw him, in the way she _cared_. He wouldn’t call himself invisible, not as a member of the royal family and certainly not as a prince or skilled fighter (even if he fought with magic), and yet he somehow always found himself living in someone else’s shadow, scrambling around for whatever space their presence didn’t consume. Ash, though... she only had eyes for him, for his well-being and happiness. Out of everyone on Asgard, she cared for him and _only_ for him, and it warmed him. He didn’t have to compete with anyone for her affections, nor did he have to earn them. She’d loved him as he loved her for years, had chosen him since they were children. Her love directed on him, wholly, fully—it made some of his pain and loneliness fade away entirely.

Loki calmly disentangled himself from Ash and maneuvered himself out of bed. “Shall I call for dinner?”

Ash leaned onto her elbows with a grin. “Yes, before I have to raid the kitchens myself.”

Loki’s amusement faded as he opened the door to see Arnar and Brandr still standing guard at his door. A flush of renewed embarrassment colored his cheeks even though both guards continued to dutifully scan the surrounding corridor for any hint of danger. He cleared his throat, doing his best to smother his anxieties when they turned to look at him. To their credit, neither flinched despite their earlier reactions, which came as a surprising relief for him. To his satisfaction, his voice came out without wavering. “Brandr, send for the kitchen servants again. I require my evening meal.”

Brandr managed to actually look at him, a knowing glint in his eye. “For two, Your Grace?”

Loki hesitated before agreeing. “Yes, for two—but Brandr? Use some discretion unless you’re speaking with my mother about this.” There was hardly any use in continuing the ruse of saving food for later if Brandr had been one of the concerned parties that burst into his chambers earlier. Now that he thought about it, he was sure that Brandr would share the news with his mother the first chance he got to report to her, so there was no use attempting to keep Ash’s presence completely secret, though he could still try to be discreet.

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Brandr saluted him then left to do as he was bid. Loki returned to Ash’s side and picked up the book he’d been reading earlier. The food came, this time handed to him by Brandr himself at the door, and then he and Ash spent the evening quietly reading together. After a few hours, despite him feeling mostly back to normal, Ash insisted he sleep again.

The next morning, he woke up feeling as he usually did, much to his quiet relief. After dressing for the day, he came up behind Ash to drape his arms loosely about her waist and rest his chin on her shoulder. She stood on the balcony, her hands resting on the railing as she studied the vast city far below them. She’d changed into the yellow dandelion-patterned dress, and her hair had yellow flowers and gold-edged yellow ribbons woven into the strands, which had been styled so that the braids near the front were pinned back behind her head while the rest of them tumbled down freely. A cluster of yellow sapphires fused in the shape of a flower hung from a gold chain, coming to rest between her collarbones. For a few moments, Loki lost himself in his own mind as he turned his face into her neck and inhaled her scent. Ash would seem peculiar to others, but Loki loved Ash for her strangeness, for her unyielding refusal to be anything other than what she was and her intimate understanding of herself. She might find herself on the end of no small amount of outrage or even jealousy from women who had for years desperately vied for a piece of the crown, or perhaps even snubbed due to her background, but on that cold morning before dawn, standing serenely in his arms as she stared out at the kingdom with her curious eyes, she seemed at peace, content simply to be by his side and uncaring of the power she might one day wield should something befall Thor and he, Loki, be asked to ascend the throne. This fae woman might one day be queen, would at least likely be a princess or a duchess, if they titled her (and they would _have_ to title her, lest it remain glaringly obvious that he married an outsider, someone not of noble birth). What had he truly asked of her, he wondered, a being so much freer, so much wilder, than himself, someone at ease with climbing trees, bathing in streams, and hunting, someone at one with the tides, the west wind, the harvest moon, the wovles? But when she turned in his arms and pinned him under her loving gaze, those racing thoughts vanished.

Her eyes alighted on him with a touch of worry. “What troubles my sweet mate?”

His face cleared and he swept her off of her feet, spinning them around and holding her a few inches off of the floor before bringing her back down for a kiss. “Nothing, my love. Join me for a stroll in the family gardens?” Seeing her look of protest, he added quickly, “The family gardens are separated from the communal palace gardens, and we each have a section maintained for us individually. We would have them to ourselves.”

Ash bit her lip in that way he found quite fetching. “And your family,” Ash reminded him, “Though I suppose no harm can come from it now, can it? Your brother already witnessed us together, and your brother will surely share it with your family if not the court.”

Loki winced. “My brother can act like an oaf, but we do have an understanding. I have refrained from sharing his list of bedmates with mother and father, and he will likely do the same for me in return, at least at first. But the guard, Brandr, reports to my mother directly, not to mention that it is easier to conceal an illicit affair with a nobleman’s daughter than it is to conceal that one has a wife. Father never visits the gardens, even his own.”

Ash grew distant for a moment as she internalized the information, then came back to herself. Her shoulders straightened and she stood taller. “Then take me there. Either we will see your brother or your mother, or will meet no one.”

Loki sought out her lips again, then took her hand. At his door, he, as he saw Ash earlier, straightened his shoulders and stood taller. He had nothing for which to feel ashamed, after all. He was the prince, and could therefore do as he pleased. If he wanted to take his wife to his family’s gardens, he could do so without judgement or ridicule from a mere palace guard. Armed with a new confidence that quelled most of his anxieties, he opened his door. Another set of guards he was familiar with, Farandir and Gunnarr, had temporarily eplaced Arnar and Brandr during the night shift to relive them, but the two who knew of Ash had returned. He nodded casually at them, locking his door magically behind them. He could sense their eyes first on him, assessing his condition, then turning curiously to Ash, assessing her for very different reasons.

To her credit, she didn’t flinch underneath the keen examination. Instead, she smiled prettily at them, making her eyes large and fawn-like under her long lashes while also appearing whimsical and entirely unbothered. It resulted in something blithe, quirky, and airy—something shown to be a thin veneer over her personality, as she couldn’t hide the sly, impish glint to her eyes from Loki, though perhaps only because he knew her so well. He discovered very early on in their initial acquaintance that she enjoyed allowing people to underestimate her, to draw their own wrong conclusions about her then use those against them. Without knowing her better, the guards would likely fall for the facade of naïveté. They bowed to her, with murmurings of “my Lady” as she passed.

Loki situated her hand into the crook of his arm and they set out on Ash’s first open journey through any part of the palace. They travelled the short distance without running into anyone else, for which Loki felt immensely grateful. The entrance allowing main access to the gardens was located in a part of the palace reserved for the private quarters of the royal family, and accessible only by family members and trusted servants, all of whom had a key. After checking to see if they would run head-on into anyone, Loki allowed Ash to step over the threshold first so she could take in a full view—vibrant flowers of every color, towering trees, and low shrubs, along with carved marble statues, decorative benches in the shade for reading, elaborate fountains, and scores of small creatures, including different species of birds and butterflies. He lounged against the entrance—the door closed firmly behind him—watching as she walked slowly toward a fallen blossom, partially crushed and shriveled as it lay on the immaculately cleaned stone path. She knelt to retrieve it, then turned to him with her hands outstretched and palms facing upward. As he watched, the blossom slowly regained its luster and shape, the small tears repairing themselves and tattered gaps filling in until it looked utterly perfect, whole, as if it had only just fallen.

Ash closed the distance between them and reached to tuck it into his neatly combed hair, braiding a few strands around the stem then securing it behind his ear. “There,” she whispered, “a handsome flower for a handsome husband.”

He couldn’t help it: he drew her close, his lips finding purchase on hers with practiced ease. “I rather thought it a beautiful blossom for a beautiful bride.”

Her eyelashes fluttered for a moment. “Do you know, when you say things like that I melt inside, Little Crow?”

Loki smirked with a mixture of fondness and amusement as he lightly traced over her cheekbone. “As I intended, my Little Magpie.”

He swayed slightly with Ash leaning into his chest, humming. He took a minute or so to bask in their moment, then gently pushed her away so they could continue her tour of the meticulously maintained gardens. She paused by every new plant, reading each of the carefully inscribed descriptions. As they followed the path, he noticed many butterflies and ladybugs, and at times even birds, settling on her shoulders and hair briefly before flying away, soon replaced by one of their brethren. As they passed an intersecting path with stones partially obscured by outstretched fronds, Ash tensed and shoved him to the side, putting herself bodily between him and the other path.

Bewildered and nursing a growing sense of hurt, Loki quickly realized that she had good reason to do so as he caught sight of a minuscule but deadly black scorpion—one he recognized as being from Muspelheim, and extremely venomous to the point that it could kill a member of the Einherjar—that had lunged from the lush greenery that came up to nearly their thighs in places. Its long, thick, wickedly sharp stinger, which he noticed with a mounting sense of alarm to be buried in Ash’s ankle through the fabric of her dress, would have embedded itself in his own flesh if not for her intervention. She hissed, whether from pain or some other emotion he couldn’t be sure, then leaned down to wrench it free. He had his hands raised, magic pooling, but before he could react he watched with dismay as it stabbed at her hand twice, drawing a small trickle of blood. Ash crushed it in her grasp even as it struck her again in the wrist through its death throes. Her eyes flashed crimson as she glared at its destroyed body with distaste. A curl of blue flame flared to life, incinerating it until only ashes remained.

She looked up to be met with his horrified expression as he reached for her in a panic. “Let me see,” he demanded, his voice and his hands both shaking as he examined her hands and wrist, which had already begun healing, though the physical wound was hardly his concern. No, the venom occupied his distraught mind. He didn’t immediately realize that Ash had been saying his name several times in a row. Only the last attempt got through to him.

“Loki!” His eyes shot up to meet hers, startled. Ash kissed his lips, though they remained twisted with worry and unresponsive, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. She cupped his cheek with her uninjured hand. “I’m fine, love, I assure you. Its venom won’t affect me.”

“How can you be sure? That was a Death’s Maiden scorpion. We have to get you to the healers immediately, discretion be damned. You still have time, if we hurry—”

She cut him off with another kiss. “I swear to you, Loki, you will not watch me die today.”

His emerald eyes swam with tears as he looked at her, his composure slipping. “Please,” he begged, cringing at how he sounded like a wounded animal or a small child.

She gave him a searching look. “If I go with you to your healers and prove to you that all is well, will that help ease your fears?”

His hands tightened around hers. “Yes.”

She smiled warmly at him and nuzzled his cheek with her nose. “Loki, you must understand that I have my own venom, stronger than this creature’s. Any foreign venom entering my body is neutralized as soon as it’s introduced. Still—I shall go with you to allay your fears, but please know that I am immune to its sting.” She rested her cheek against his cheek, breathing in his scent.

Loki relaxed only marginally. “We can never be too cautious. You understand why I need them to check?”

She kissed the spot underneath his ear. “Of course I do, my heart, lead the way.”

She yelped in surprise when he bent and scooped her into his arms, easily bearing her weight. One arm supported her from a spot just behind her knees while the other supported her back. Ash looped her arms around his neck without protest to stabilize herself, pressing her face into his collarbone. Then Loki took off, moving with far more speed than the sedate pace from earlier. The door to the gardens unlocked and slammed open without being touched, banging shut behind them as he ran full tilt with her cradled against him to the palace infirmary, shielding them from view of the casual observer who might catch sight of the prince streaking through the corridors with a woman in a golden gown clutched tightly to his chest.

.

Loki burst through the entrance to the infirmary like a madman on a mission, nearly bowling over both Lady Astrid and the Head Healer Lady Eir at the threshold, both of whom had been trying to leave when he arrived. He panted, eyes wild. “Help her, please.”

As the two healers steadied each other, Lady Eir spoke to him. “Prince Loki? What ails you?”

Loki attempted to reign in his flyaway emotions enough to respond coherently to her. “Not me, Lady Eir, my—my wife, Ash.”

Her eyebrows rose as he dropped that bit of news, no doubt thinking that she was unaware he even _had_ a wife. Rather than commenting on that, however, she beckoned him to follow her and strode over to the nearest Soul Forge. “Lay her here, Your Grace, and tell me what happened.”

Loki carefully laid a completely compliant Ash onto the Forge to pass into Head Healer Eir’s competent care. She didn’t seem to be in any pain, which calmed him somewhat. As Lady Eir quietly instructed Ash to cross her arms over her chest, he began filling in his mother’s old friend on the details. “We went for a stroll in the family gardens when we came to the intersection of two paths and a Death’s Maiden came out of the foliage and struck her, first in her ankle, then twice in her hand and once in her wrist.” He paused, swallowing, then muttered to himself with a frown. “Why would there be a Death’s Maiden in our gardens?”

He knew the obvious answer, of course, but Lady Astrid voiced it as she handed over a steaming chalice of chamomile and mint tea into his hands. “I think we can all agree that someone tried to assassinate you, or at the very least a member of your family, Your Grace.”

He willed his hands to stop shaking in order to avoid sloshing the hot beverage over them, staring morosely into its depths. “It would seem so.” His lips pursed as his currently tempestuous emotions whirled toward a quiet rage. “Though just as with my brother, they failed again.”

“Aye, their little beastie attacked the wrong person,” Lady Astrid commented.

“No, you don’t understand. I—it should have been me, Lady Astrid, but she switched places with me.”

She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. “Oh my—she took the blows meant for you, Your Grace.” Her eyes, shining with respect and admiration, left him and went to Ash, who held perfectly still as Lady Eir manipulated the Soul Forge this way and that to examine her.

As if sending their attention, Lady Eir began sharing her findings with them. “I ran basic diagnostics for any obvious or superficial injuries or maladies, then performed a deeper scan. Other than the puncture wounds you mentioned, which are already healing nicely, I might add, there appears to be nothing amiss.” Which, apparently, baffled her as she scrutinized the results of Ash’s scans as if to find some error in them.

Ash chose then to pipe up from where she lay. “I told you I was fine, my heart.”

Already plotting the vicious, bloody murder of the culprit or culprits and anyone who aided them in their act—for surely either someone was careless with their key or outright betrayed them—Loki’s entire body relaxed and his brooding expression melted away into a relieved joy. “You did,” he conceded, “but with the finest healers in all the realms at our disposal and multiple stings from a Death’s Maiden scorpion, I had to be sure.”

She rolled her eyes fondly at him, and like him ignored the pointed looks the two healers exchanged with each other. Her eyes gleamed with something both playful and deadly. “I’m far more difficult to kill than I look. They’ll have to try harder than this, I’m afraid.”

He found his fingers twined with hers without processing the thought or the movement, as if his body acted as soon as it entered his mind. “They’d do better not to try at all unless they want to meet a rather nasty end by my hand.”

Lady Eir cleared her throat. “Well, she appears perfectly healthy, Prince Loki. She’s free to leave whenever she’d like as long as she rests here half an hour to an hour for observation—though I’d like to scan you as well in the meantime. You shouldn’t be up and about for long with your recent illness.”

Loki allowed the older healer to scan his vitals on the Soul Forge next to Ash. As soon as she powered down the device, he and Ash sat up and brought their foreheads together, Ash skimming her lips over the bridge of his nose. “Well, your gardens _were_ beautiful,” she remarked lightly.

Loki shoved the hardly-touched chalice back at Lady Astrid, then encircled Ash with his arms, smoothing his unoccupied fingers over her unbound braids. “Do not,” he pleaded shakily. “Do not make light of this, Ash. The thought of losing you…. Do not switch with me again, do you understand? Let them have me.”

As would often happen when together, they focused entirely on each other even with the second, barely audible gasp from Lady Astrid. Lady Eir quietly left their side and busied herself with rummaging through their supply of potions and medicines, though Loki knew distantly that she too would continue to eavesdrop on them even as she gave them a semblance of privacy. How could she avoid hearing their conversation with them conversing next to her?

“I would never let them take you,” Ash snarled softly, obviously as conscious of their audience as he was, if her darting eyes served as any indication.

Loki sighed in resignation in the face of her fierce determination. “Nor I you.”

Silence fell, and they spent the next half hour simply holding each other. Loki basked in it as his world stopped spinning, stabilizing again. Lady Astrid interrupted, not unkindly. “Your Grace—Your Graces—I’m sure this was still an ordeal for you. Please, more tea with you.”

“And this.” Lady Eir returned to their side, offering him a sealed jar that fit in the palm of his hand. “A paste to help with any lingering pain or bruising she might experience. It helps with nerve and tissue damage as well, but if the venom has no effect on her I suspect she won’t find that aspect applicable.”

Loki inclined his head to her, sliding the jar into his pocket. “I thank you, Head Healer Eir, for your assistance.”

She dipped into a respectful curtsy. “Of course. It is my duty to faithfully serve the royal family.” Her eyes strayed briefly toward Ash. “ _All_ of its members. Give your mother my regards if you see her before I do.”

Damn and double damn if he and Ash weren’t foiled at every turn trying to be selective about her introduction to the other residents of the palace and Asgard at large. He graced her with a genial smile that he meant, for the most part. “I shall. Ash?” He helped her stand, alert for any sign of pain or discomfort on her part, though she displayed none, if she experienced any at all. Ash murmured her own thanks to the two healers before she departed with him arm in arm.

On the return journey to the royal wing of the palace, Loki pulled her onto a window seat halfway back to his quarters. Ash grumbled about his actions being excessive, but allowed him to fuss over her. When he was fully satisfied that she’d rested long enough, they continued the rest of the way, still traveling as slowly as when they left the infirmary. “I’m perfectly capable of moving faster than an infant with a knee injury crawls,” she complained as they rounded the final corner and the corridor entrance to his bedchamber came into view.

“Capable of it does not mean you should,” he argued. “Now cease this at once. I’m keeping you off of your feet for the rest of the day.” He stopped dead when he noticed a distinct lack of guards in the corridor. No Brandr and Arnar, nor Farandir and Gunnarr, not even Ólafur or Sindri. He pushed Ash behind him as his clothing morphed into armor and he drew his blade.

“Loki?”

“Stay behind me, Ash.”

She scoffed but didn’t argue. Instead, the surface of her skin hardened until it had the resistance of diamond. It was a useful defensive technique, something she did often when they were younger so that he could spar with someone who wasn’t trying to take his head off, since Thor and Sif had always been rather vicious—and prone to taking the obvious killing blows, preferring to knock out their opponent with brute force rather than work through a strategy to win. On the garden path she must have been caught off guard by the ambush, and with only a split second to act, she had two choices: protect herself or protect her mate. Loki drew those conclusions as he strode towards his perfectly unassuming chamber door, furious all over again that someone would strike at his wife at all, let alone within the ancient walls of the royal family’s ancestral seat. Had the same person slain the guards and hidden their bodies, then decided to lay in wait for him?

A snapping sound reached his ears. A glimpse from his periphery showed him that Ash had summoned more of her haunting bluebell flames with a flick of her wrist, grasping them like a whip that trailed by her side. Loki bit back another protest. _No, he had to trust her in this—_ he would rather she defend herself than depend solely on him, especially after the fresh assassination attempt in his own home, in the heart of his family’s kingdom. With a concentrated jab of his magic, the door swung inward on its hinges. Loki stormed inside with Ash hot on his heels, prepared for an attack.

The room was empty.

He continued toward the inner door, opening it only after he shut the outer door, lest they face an unannounced ambush from behind. He emerged into the room that only yesterday had held an awkward assortment of his acquaintances before he unceremoniously dismissed them. This room was _not_ empty. A figure lounged gracefully in one of his chairs, a book spread open on her lap and a goblet full of mead in one hand. Her blonde hair was styled in an elegant updo, and her jewelry sparkled even in the weak morning light filtering in from outside. She looked up as they came into the room, her familiar blue eyes taking in his appearance from head to toe, then wandering over to Ash and doing the same. “Loki, it pleases me to see you well again.” Her smile was genuine, her demeanor one of care and keen interest. “And I hear congratulations are in order.” Mild curiosity laced her tone rather than disappointment or malice, much to his internal relief.

Once he ascertained that she wasn’t a part of a trap of some sort, Loki’s armor and dagger vanished in an instant, replaced once more by his usual attire. At his side, sensing the change in mood, Ash returned her skin to its normal state. The nearly serpentine form of her blue fire morphed into a blue bracelet circling her uninjured wrist. Loki reached back for her hand and brought her to his side. He swallowed, feeling suddenly nervous and small.

“Mother,” he finally greeted, “This is Ash—my wife.”

Queen Frigga of Asgard calmly marked her place in her book and set it and her goblet to the side on a nearby stand, rising from her seated position. “So I’ve heard.” She clasped her hands together in front of her and stepped toward them. “I believe a discussion is in order.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for those following my current two long-term project WIPs. This is a short-term project that will be wrapped up in five-ten chapters or less much like my horror story romances. Please have mercy on me. My last few months have been rough. Societal and political issues aside, my other grandparent died Monday this week, and between the last human death of my grandmother and also losing one of my best friends, my kitten also died. I've just...not felt like writing, although I did at least make an outline and rough draft for the next 2-3 chapters of Phoebe and Rick's life. More to come, I promise. I haven't given up. :)
> 
> A/N Addendum: I want to apologize to anyone reading literally ANY of my other stories. I’m gonna start posting some of the stories I’ve kept in the wings because I do a lot of writing in the shadows that none of y’all see lol. I’ll just switch back and forth between projects. That seems to keep me writing continuously while also allowing some stories to lay fallow until it’s their turn so I don’t just hit stumbling blocks and not write at all. I literally have stories that have 30-60k pre-written for them that I just haven’t published yet. So it may seem like I’ve been dormant but really I’ve just been working on different projects behind the scenes. None of my stories are abandoned, just rotated so that some are on the back burner at any given time. So you’ll see me be a lot more active, but the story I’m updating will vary. I will, however, always be updating something so if you’re into multiple fandoms and you enjoy my work, feel free to stock up on all of them. 😂 They’ll all get attention.


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